That time of year thou may’st in me behold
When orange hairs, or none, or few, do hang
Upon this brow which lately raged against the polls.
But now bare silent Tweets! where late my Twitter sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day,
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by-and-by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such ire
That on the ashes of my pride doth lie,
The reality-show whereon it must expire
Consumes that which it was nourish’d by.
This thou perceivest, which makes my spite more strong,
To love that well which I must leave ere long.
August 20th, 2016 at 11:42AM
73 is among the 5-10 or WS sonnets I learned by heart from Vendler’s CD, while on long drives during my kid’s college years. Likewise, lots on the Harper Audio Stevens (my favorite poet) reads Stevens cd. Then Stevens stuff not available in audio — though of course not while driving. I love last canto of Ordinary Evening — last in the collected Works form — not the Harper audio form. “The little reds, not often realized . . . sheets of music in the strokes of thunder [etc].” Alas, I’ve forgotten most of the Shakespeare and too much of the Stevens. It’s really good to be able to play poetry in your head. Perhaps it’s time to brush up.