Core: noun, the most important part of a thing, the essence; from the Latin cor, meaning heart.

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 Volume 1.7 This View’s Poetry March 25, 2002 


    Spring’s Colors    
         
   

Color
comes up
from deep down:
bare boughs flout gravity
to channel hidden sap skyward,
conspiring to bury old winter’s brown
beneath new summer’s green, rich and deep.
But the baby leaves on trees’ innumerable fingertips
wear, a moment, autumn’s many colors; shy-soft, though,
not cold-crisp like the old leaves’, the generation now past.
Most in day’s late light, sun at farthest west,
do autumn’s colors live briefly on eastward hills,
gently vivid in the sun’s cool caress:
haunting of autumn, last and next.
Though leaves will grow green,
they pause at birth,
a brief reminder:
we’ll not
last.

   
         
    E. L. Core    
         
    © ELC 1988    

    Nothing Gold Can Stay    
         
   

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

   
         
    Robert Frost (1874-1963)    
    Poetry pp. 222f    

    Triad    
         
    From the Silence of Time, Time’s Silence borrow.
In the heart of To-day is the word of To-morrow.
The Builders of Joy are the Children of Sorrow.
   
         
    William Sharp (1856-1902)    
    Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse p. 400    



The View from the Core, and all original material, © E. L. Core 2002. All rights reserved.

Cor ad cor loquitur J. H. Newman — “Heart speaks to heart”