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Thanks to a residency at EcoHealth, my verse these days finds inspiration in the specter of future pandemics; for my dissertation at LMU München, where I tutor and edit circulars on poetics and composition, I'm anatomizing the prosody of Robinson's sonnets—I also teach at MVHS and lead the Amerikahaus Literary Circle.

20140813

Horace to Leuconoë

by Edwin Arlington Robinson

I pray you not, Leuconoë, to pore
With unpermitted eye on what may be
Appointed by the gods for you and me,
Nor on Chaldean figures any more.
'T were infinitely better to implore
The present only:--whether Jove decree
More winters yet to come, or whether he 
Make even this, whose hard, wave-eaten shore
Shatters the Tuscan seas to-day, the last--
Be wise withal, and rack your wine, nor fill
Your bosom with large hopes; for while I sing,
The envious close of time is narrowing;
So seize the day, or ever it be past,
And let the morrow come for what it will.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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