DPF / Coleridge

What? No Coleridge? This is the four-day countdown to end the run of no repeats. Beginning 1/1/16, I will no longer seek a new poet each day, but will pull favorite fragments willy nilly; I think I will have made it through two years of no individual poet repeats, except for Christmas Eve’s Moore and the days we lost Tate and Strand. This one’s for the last week of my favorite month, from poetryfoundation.org.

from Fragment 3: Come, come thou bleak December / by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Come, come thou bleak December wind,
And blow the dry leaves from the tree!

DPF / Hood

Last day for silence this week. And, more here and here:

from Silence / by Thomas Hood b. 1789

There is a silence where hath been no sound,
There is a silence where no sound may be,

DPF / Tennyson

And, nightmares remind me of mirrors and mirrors of Tennyson and Tennyson of the (fatal yet) essential moment in which she turns and looks directly at the world.

from The Lady of Shalott / by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

With a steady stony glance—
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Beholding all his own mischance,
Mute, with a glassy countenance —
      She look’d down to Camelot.