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As the resident artist at EcoHealth, I pen verse inspired by the specter of future pandemics; for my dissertation at Amerika-Institut of LMU München, where I edit a weekly circular on poetry, I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets—I also teach English, tutor composition, and lead a literary circle.

20150527

Keen, fitful gusts are whisp’ring here and there

by John Keats

Keen, fitful gusts are whisp’ring here and there
  Among the bushes half leafless, and dry;
  The stars look very cold about the sky,
And I have many miles on foot to fare.
Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air,        
  Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily,
  Or of those silver lamps that burn on high,
Or of the distance from home’s pleasant lair:
For I am brimfull of the friendliness
  That in a little cottage I have found;        
Of fair-hair’d Milton’s eloquent distress,
  And all his love for gentle Lycid drown’d;
Of lovely Laura in her light green dress,
  And faithful Petrarch gloriously crown’d.

Note:  A recitation can be heard here.

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