Category Archives: Nature

Dienstag Dictung XXII


There was an old person of Ware,
Who rode on the back of a bear:
When they ask’d, “Does it trot?” he said, “Certainly not!
He’s a Moppsikon Floppsikon bear!”

–Edward Lear


Dienstag Dictung XXI

Instruments (2)

Hold me against the dark: I am afraid.
Circle me with your arms. I am made
So tiny and my atoms so unstable
That at any moment I may explode. I am unable
To contain myself in unity. My outlines shiver
With the shock of living. I endeavor
To hold the I as one only for the cloud
Of which I am a fragment, yet to which I’m vowed
To be responsible. Its light against my face
Reveals the witness of the stars, each in its place
Singing, each compassed by the rest,
The many joined to one, the mightiest to the least.
It is so great a thing to be an infinitesimal part
of this immeasurable orchestra the music bursts the heart,
And from this tiny plosion all the fragments join:
Joy orders the disunity until the song is one.

–Madeleine L’Engle

Dienstag Dictung VI

Binsey Poplars: felled 1879

     My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled,
     Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun,
     Áll félled, félled, are áll félled;

          Of a fresh, and following folded rank
                                        Not spared, not one
                                        That dandled a sandalled
          Shadow that swam or sank
On meadow and river and wind-wandering weed-winding bank.
     O if we but knew what we do
                    When we delve or hew–
          Hack and rack the growing green!
                    Since country is so tender
          To tóuch, her béing só slénder,
                    That, like this sleek and seeing ball
                    But a prick will make no eye at all,
                    Where we, even where we mean
                                        To mend her we end her,
                              When we hew or delve:
After-comers cannot guess the beauty been.
     Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve
                    Strokes of havoc unselve
                              The sweet especial scene,
                    Rural scene, a rural scene,
                    Sweet especial rural scene.
— Gerard Manley Hopkins