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

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 Volume 2.4 This View’s Poetry September 30, 2002 

    The Summons    

I expect you in September
With the glory of the year:
You shall make the Autumn precious,
And the death of Summer dear;
You shall help the days that shorten,
With a lengthening of delight;
You shall whisper long-drawn blisses
Through the gathering screen of night.

I will lead you, dream-enchanted,
Where the fairest grasses grow;
I will hear your murmured music
Where the fresh winds pipe and blow.
On the brown heath, weird-encircled,
Shall our noiseless footsteps fall, —
We, communing with twin counsel,
Each to other all in all.

Leave the titles that men owe thee;
Like the first pair let us meet;
Name the world all over to me,
New-created at thy feet;
Gentle task and duteous learning,
I will hang upon thy breath
With the tender zeal of childhood,
With the constancy of death.

What shall be the gods declare not, —
They who stamp Love’s burning coin
Into spangles of a moment,
Into stars that deathless shine.
Oh! the foolish music lingers;
For the theme is heavenly dear:
I expect you in September,
With the glories of the year.

    Julia Ward Howe (1819-1911)    

Yale Book of American Verse (1912) # 139
ed. Thomas R. Lounsbury


    Nimrod in September    

When half the drowsy world’s a-bed
And misty morning rises red,
With jollity of horn and lusty cheer,
Young Nimrod urges on his dwindling rout;
Along the yellowing coverts we can hear
His horse’s hoofs thud hither and about:
In mulberry coat he rides and makes
Huge clamour in the sultry brakes.

    Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967)    

The Old Huntsman and Other Poems (1918) # 37


    Laughing Corn    

There was a high majestic fooling
Day before yesterday in the yellow corn.

And day after to-morrow in the yellow corn
There will be high majestic fooling.

The ears ripen in late summer
And come on with a conquering laughter,
Come on with a high and conquering laughter.

The long-tailed blackbirds are hoarse.
One of the smaller blackbirds chitters on a stalk
And a spot of red is on its shoulder
And I never heard its name in my life.

Some of the ears are bursting.
A white juice works inside.
Cornsilk creeps in the end and dangles in the wind.
Always — I never knew it any other way —
The wind and the corn talk things over together.
And the rain and the corn and the sun and the corn
Talk things over together.

Over the road is the farmhouse.
The siding is white and a green blind is slung loose.
It will not be fixed till the corn is husked.
The farmer and his wife talk things over together.

    Carl Sandburg (1878–1967)    

Cornhuskers (1918) # 5


    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
ed. D. H. S. Nicholson and A. H. E. Lee


 Volume 2.4 This View’s Poetry September 30, 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”