Welcome

Welcome to my new blog. This will be a house for some of my more sporadic musings. If I think something is interesting, or troubling, or pretty, I'll post it here. You can expect short posts, mostly.

Today's will be a selection from Wordsworth: his poem, "Surprized by joy."

Surprized by joy—impatient as the Wind
I wished to share the transport—Oh! with whom
But Thee, long buried in the silent Tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love recalled thee to my mind—
But how could I forget thee!—Through what power
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss?—That thought's return
Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.
---

This was written some time after his daughter died. This poem is most haunting to me because Wordsworth describes joy as a swindler. For a moment, it makes him forget that his daughter is dead. But joy is naturally shared, and he turns to share this joy with his daughter, only to remember she's gone. So joy brings his daughter back to take her away again. He aches. She has died a second time. Joy has become an enemy, because it makes him forget his resignation just long enough to make it hurt when he remembers.

Thoughts?

-brian