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

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 Volume 1.17 This View’s Poetry June 3, 2002 


    Beauty — be not caused — It Is —    
         
   

Beauty — be not caused — It Is —
Chase it, and it ceases —
Chase it not, and it abides —

Overtake the Creases

In the Meadow — when the Wind
Runs his fingers thro’ it —
Deity will see to it
That You never do it —

   
         
    Emily Dicksinson (1830-1886)    
    Complete Poems (1955) # 516
ed. Thomas H. Johnson
   

    A Thing of Beauty is a Joy For Ever    
         
   

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
’Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink....

   
         
    John Keats (1795-1821)    
   

from Endymion, Book I
The Poetical Works of John Keats (1884)
ed. Francis T. Palgrave

   

    Christine    
         
   

The Beauty of the northern dawns,
    Their pure, pale light is thine;
Yet all the dreams of tropic nights
    Within thy blue eyes shine.
Not statelier in their prisoning seas
    The icebergs grandly move,
But in thy smile is youth and joy,
    And in thy voice is love.

Thou art like Hecla’s crest that stands
    So lonely, proud, and high,
No earthly thing may come between
    Her summit and the sky.
The sun in vain may strive to melt
    Her crown of virgin snow,
But the great heart of the mountain glows
    With deathless fire below.

   
         
    John Hay (1833-1908)    
    An American Anthology, 1787–1900 (1900) #726
ed. Edmund Clarence Stedman
   

    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    



 Volume 1.17 This View’s Poetry June 3, 2002 





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”