Friday, July 22, 2011
Naturally I approve.
This week's poem is a suggestion from Atticus, Wilbur's "Mind." One might draw compelling conclusions from this short poem about either the mind of Wilbur, the mind of Atticus, or the mind of the woman who loves that she can put these two men together in a sentence.
Mind in its purest play is like some bat
That beats about in caverns all alone,
Contriving by a kind of senseless wit
Not to conclude against a wall of stone.
It has no need to falter or explore;
Darkly it knows what obstacles are there,
(Read the whole poem here. Hoping that link works for you -- tough to find a legitimate link to this one online, so I'm trying to direct you to a page from Collected poems, 1943-2004 at Google Books.)
Updated: The link isn't taking you directly to the poem but if you do a search there for Mind, you'll find a link to the poem on page 314.
Tabatha Yeatts has the round up today.