This is What You Shall Do

Philosophically, I like to think of myself as an empiricist. I remember vividly my introduction to the study’s ideals in a literature and philosophy class my freshman year of college.

And while empiricism often lends itself to intellectualism, there’s still a part of me that at least understands transcendentalist theories… which is one of the many reasons I love Walt Whitman. Another is his marvelous, inspired ability to write, to call to action, to illustrate an image or an ideal, to enchant, to pursue, to create.

read these leaves in the open air every season

The first printing of Leaves of Grass (and none of the subsequent printings) had a preface with the following quote:

“This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”

National Poetry Month

In honor of April as National Poetry Month, a verse by one of my favorite poets about one of my absolute favorite literary beings.

“Sherwood,” by Alfred Noyes

Sherwood in the twilight, is Robin Hood awake?
Grey and ghostly shadows are gliding through the brake;
Shadows of the dappled deer, dreaming of the morn,
Dreaming of a shadowy man that winds a shadowy horn.

Robin Hood is here again: all his merry thieves
Hear a ghostly bugle-note shivering through the leaves,
Calling as he used to call, faint and far away,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

shivering through the leaves

Merry, merry England has kissed the lips of June:
All the wings of fairyland were here beneath the moon;
Like a flight of rose-leaves fluttering in a mist
Of opal and ruby and pearl and amethyst.

Merry, merry England is waking as of old,
With eyes of blither hazel and hair of brighter gold:
For Robin Hood is here again beneath the bursting spray
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

merry, merry England has kissed the lips of June

Love is in the greenwood building him a house
Of wild rose and hawthorn and honeysuckle boughs;
Love it in the greenwood: dawn is in the skies;
And Marian is waiting with a glory in her eyes.

Hark! The dazzled laverock climbs the golden steep:
Marian is waiting: is Robin Hood asleep?
Round the fairy grass-rings frolic elf and fay,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Oberon, Oberon, rake away the gold,
Rake away the red leaves, roll away the mould,
Rake away the gold leaves, roll away the red,
And wake Will Scarlett from his leafy forest bed.

Friar Tuck and Little John are riding down together
With quarter-staff and drinking-can and grey goose-feather;
The dead are coming back again; the years are rolled away
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Softly over Sherwood the south wind blows;
All the heart of England hid in every rose
Hears across the greenwood the sunny whisper leap,
Sherwood in the red dawn, is Robin Hood asleep?

all the heart of England hid in every rose

Hark, the voice of England wakes him as of old
And, shattering the silence with a cry of brighter gold,
Bugles in the greenwood echo from the steep,
Sherwood in the red dawn, is Robin Hood asleep?

Where the deer are gliding down the shadowy glen
All across the glades of fern he calls his merry men;
Doublets of the Lincoln green glancing through the May,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day;

shattering the silence with a cry of brighter gold

Calls them and they answer: from aisles of oak and ash
Rings the Follow! Follow! and the boughs begin to crash;
The ferns begin to flutter and the flowers begin to fly;
And through the crimson dawning the robber band goes by.

Robin! Robin! Robin! All his merry thieves
Answer as the bugle-note shivers through the leaves:
Calling as he used to call, faint and far away,
In Sherwood, in Sherwood, about the break of day.

Not an Expert

I don’t have any definite plans for the purpose which I intend this blog to serve.  As a music journalist, I’ve been updating a portfolio website so as to collect and display my work.  As a writer, I’ve been chronicling my own experiences for over 7 years now, across hundreds and hundreds of pages.  So I have both the personal and the professional pretty well covered.  I suppose this will become my middle ground.

As to its content, I don’t have any real ideas about that either.  I understand enough about myself that I assume the shape this space might form would be purely an extension of my life’s passions, which include artistic standards like music, literature, culture, poetry, culinary arts, fashion, and photography, among so many other things.

Beyond that, I see this as a small offering to the world… a way to appreciate music, beautiful things, poignant words, good food, and brilliant people.  Because really, I don’t claim to be an expert on anything.  I know a lot about a few things, but mostly I’m still learning.