Yes, I missed yesterday. I hope I can be forgiven. I had six hours worth of final oral exams to give, and this quickly turns your brain to mush. Then, it was hard to think of poetry yesterday after events in Boston. But maybe poetry is exactly what we need. I saw this quote from Leonard Bernstein on Twitter which about sums it up: “This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.”
Ah, did you once see Shelley plain,
And did he stop and speak to you?
And did you speak to him again?
How strange it seems, and new!
But you were living before that,
And you are living after,
And the memory I started at—
My starting moves your laughter!
I crossed a moor, with a name of its own
And a certain use in the world no doubt,
Yet a hand’s-breadth of it shines alone
‘Mid the blank miles round about:
For there I picked up on the heather
And there I put inside my breast
A moulted feather, an eagle-feather—
Well, I forget the rest.