I Have a Problem: Volume VII

"What Lips My Lips Have Kissed and Where and Why" is one of the first poems that I read over and over again. St. Vincent Millay led a fierce and complex life and she really shook things up for her time. But for a woman who could look into a camera and seduce you across the ages, her vulnerabilities and strength come across in equal measure in her poetry. She reminds you that people are often infinitely more complex than the bare expression of their actions. 

My boyfriend's brother recommended this and I hear there's a cat in it. That's only partly a joke. This book has something of a cult following and everyone that I've spoken to who has read it absolutely loves it.

I read The Innocents Abroad when I was in India and fell in love with Mark Twain in a way that I never had when reading Huck Finn in high school. Twain pulls no punches and, as someone who has grown up in the age of the politically correct, it is refreshing to read someone who is not apologizing every other sentence.

This book is my latest addition to my collection of good ol' fashioned ghost stories. I have a fascination with Nantucket, because whales.

I love books about places and also things that go. This means that I am attracted to board books designed for children who cannot yet read and books like this.

167, 168, 169, 170, 171

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

As a little note to celebrate the holiday (my people! my people!), here is some Irish-born William Butler Yeats for you! I chose two somethings with decidedly summery overtones, because ohmygoodness it is supremely cold for March 17th.

The Song of Wandering Aengus

I WENT out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread; 
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands.
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands; 
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun. 

---

The Lake Isle of Inisfree

I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart's core.

I pulled these works from poemhunter.com. Thanks, poemhunter.com! 

Go n-eírí an bóthar leat.

(May the road rise with you.)