Everyone talks about the weather, and Weekend Words is no exception. With New York undergoing a long frigid blast this week, let’s raise a cold one to winter.
“There are three reasons for becoming a writer: the first is that you
need the money; the second that you have something to say that you
think the world should know; the third is that you can’t think what to
do with the long winter evenings.”
“The winter is made and you have to bear it”
—Wallace Stevens, from “The Dwarf” (1942)
“Winter is icumen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm,
Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
. Sing: Goddamm.
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham.
Freezeth river, turneth liver,
. Damm you; Sing: Goddamm.
Goddamm, Goddamm, ’tis why I am, Goddamm,
. So ‘gainst the winter’s balm.
Sing goddamm, damm, sing goddamm,
Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.”
—Ezra Pound, “Ancient Music” (1912)
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