Not just any old conversation will do . . .
This entry was posted in Environment
and tagged A E Houseman
, Ada MI
, Carl Sandburg
, Grand River
, Lowell MI
, Saranac MI
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To your river poetry, may I add Isaiah Beethovan’s story from Edgar Lee Master’s Spoon River Anthology?
They told me I had three months to live,
So I crept to Bernadotte,
And sat by the mill for hours and hours
Where the gathered waters deeply moving
Seemed not to move:
O world, that’s you!
You are but a widened place in the river
Where Life looks down and and we rejoice for her
Mirrored in us, and so we dream
And turn away, but when again
We look for the face, behold the low-lands
And blasted cotton-wood trees where we empty
Into the larger stream!
But here by the mill the castled clouds
Mocked themselves in the dizzy water;
And over its agate floor at night
The flame of the moon ran under my eyes
Amid a forest stillness broken
By the flute in a hut on the hill.
At last when I came to lie in bed
Weak and in pain, with the dreams about me,
The soul of the river had entered my soul,
And the gathered power of my soul was moving
So swiftly it seemed to be at rest
Under cities of cloud and under
Spheres of silver and changing worlds —
Until I saw a flash of trumpets
Above the battlements over Time!
The rhythm of paddling lends itself to poetry! Or song — look no farther than the songs of the voyageuers who traveled the lakes and rivers of North America!
A parent who recited the poems of A. E. Housman must have been special for you. Poetry, humor and canoeing — what a great way to spend time together as brothers. Thanks for sharing this post. I thought it was wonderful.
Reblogged this on The Cedar Journal and commented:
Ahhh… canoeing with these guys must be a hoot. I am so glad they share their adventures.