About Me

My photo
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 composition and edit a poetry weekly, I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets—I also teach at MVHS and lead the Amerikahaus Literary Circle.



     by Arthur O'Shaughnessy

     We are the music-makers,
     And we are the dreamers of dreams,
     Wandering by lone sea-breakers
     And sitting by desolate streams;
     World losers and world forsakers,
     On whom the pale moon gleams:
     Yet we are the movers and shakers
     Of the world for ever, it seems.

     With wonderful deathless ditties
     We build up the world’s great cities.
     And out of a fabulous story
     We fashion an empire’s glory:
     One man with a dream, at pleasure,
     Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
     And three with a new song’s measure
     Can trample an empire down.

     We, in the ages lying
     In the buried past of the earth,
     Built Nineveh with our sighing,
     And Babel itself with our mirth;
     And o’erthrew them with prophesying
     To the old of the new world’s worth;
     For each age is a dream that is dying,
     Or one that is coming to birth.

No comments:

Post a Comment