I do think I've moved back in that direction myself in more recent years. But what you say at the end of your comment might be the key: the opposition between beauty and meaning could be a false dichotomy. The best poetry, in any case, surely combines both. Even if the meaning might be always just out of reach... Many thanks for the comment!
I would love to hear more of your thoughts on that dichotomy between the aesthetic and the meaningful...I feel as I have aged I have shifted the other direction, namely from a diligent study of meaning to the appreciation of the beautiful and sublime for its own sake. ( Although my conception of beauty may be tinged with meaning; I'll have to think about that.)
Marilyn is right! Beautifully written and so moving. And we just had the most delicious strawberries I've ever had in Norway in July. That's your recompense in the future! I wish I'd read this before our trip. xoxo
Ah, Mallory! So many strands woven together into these lovely reflections. Can Keats' assurance that "Heard melodies are sweet, / But those unheard are sweeter" suggest that no berry you'll ever taste can match the sweetness of those Belgian berries you drove by? (By the way, I'm extremely impressed with the compact way you narrated the quarrel overheard from the backseat. So skillful!) I can't figure out now why I point out these lines in Keats; is that supposed to be comforting, Margaret?? Perhaps to your recognition that the taste of paradise would have diminished the pleasure of any other berry feast, Keats responds that even that sweeter taste would be less sweet than the berries you longed for and missed. I'm getting tangled up here, and I'm not convinced by Keats, anyway. And I love the way that, in your closing, you find "ripe red fruit" in the "yellow drying foliage," as Wallace Stevens finds in our "old dependency of day and night," which is no paradise, that "Sweet berries ripen in the wilderness." He's satisfied, I gather, with the ambiguity of the pigeons' "undulations," as they "sink / Downward to darkness," but with their wings still extended. Thank you for sending me back to these poems!
Bravo! Thank you for sharing this lovely, thought-provoking article. I can’t wait to talk about it over tea! I’ll never eat another strawberry the same way again. ❤️
I do think I've moved back in that direction myself in more recent years. But what you say at the end of your comment might be the key: the opposition between beauty and meaning could be a false dichotomy. The best poetry, in any case, surely combines both. Even if the meaning might be always just out of reach... Many thanks for the comment!
I would love to hear more of your thoughts on that dichotomy between the aesthetic and the meaningful...I feel as I have aged I have shifted the other direction, namely from a diligent study of meaning to the appreciation of the beautiful and sublime for its own sake. ( Although my conception of beauty may be tinged with meaning; I'll have to think about that.)
So sweet. I can taste it.
Marilyn is right! Beautifully written and so moving. And we just had the most delicious strawberries I've ever had in Norway in July. That's your recompense in the future! I wish I'd read this before our trip. xoxo
I love it that you’re continuing the search for the “right” poem. Thank you, Margaret!
Ah, Mallory! So many strands woven together into these lovely reflections. Can Keats' assurance that "Heard melodies are sweet, / But those unheard are sweeter" suggest that no berry you'll ever taste can match the sweetness of those Belgian berries you drove by? (By the way, I'm extremely impressed with the compact way you narrated the quarrel overheard from the backseat. So skillful!) I can't figure out now why I point out these lines in Keats; is that supposed to be comforting, Margaret?? Perhaps to your recognition that the taste of paradise would have diminished the pleasure of any other berry feast, Keats responds that even that sweeter taste would be less sweet than the berries you longed for and missed. I'm getting tangled up here, and I'm not convinced by Keats, anyway. And I love the way that, in your closing, you find "ripe red fruit" in the "yellow drying foliage," as Wallace Stevens finds in our "old dependency of day and night," which is no paradise, that "Sweet berries ripen in the wilderness." He's satisfied, I gather, with the ambiguity of the pigeons' "undulations," as they "sink / Downward to darkness," but with their wings still extended. Thank you for sending me back to these poems!
Bravo! Thank you for sharing this lovely, thought-provoking article. I can’t wait to talk about it over tea! I’ll never eat another strawberry the same way again. ❤️