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I always read this one by Percy Shelley while visiting the beach. It has one of the most difficult-to-parse stanzas I can think of.

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I’m at the beach this week, so here’s an appropriate one from Philip Larkin.

I’m at the beach this week, so here’s an appropriate one from Philip Larkin.

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"Lying under the stars,
In the summer night,
Late, while the autumn
Constellations climb the sky
As the Cluster of Hercules
Falls down the west
I put the telescope by
And watch Deneb
Move towards the zenith.
My body is asleep. Only
My eyes and brain are awake.
The stars stand around me
Like gold eyes. I can no longer
Tell where I begin and leave off.
The faint breeze in the dark pines,
And the invisible grass,
The tipping earth, swarming stars
Have an eye that sees itself."

The heart of Herakles — Kenneth Rexroth (1905-1982)

(Source: cerasiferae, via awakenaffinity)

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Robert Frost

Robert Frost

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Robert Frost

Robert Frost

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Langston Hughes

Langston Hughes

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Philip Larkin

Philip Larkin

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In the mail today: quickly becoming one of my favorites.

In the mail today: quickly becoming one of my favorites.

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In the mail today.

In the mail today.

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"A Poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds: his auditors are as men entranced by the melody of an unseen musician, who feel that they are moved and softened, yet know not whence or why."

— Percy Shelley, ”A Defense of Poetry” (via downworldergirl)

(via endymiondreaming)