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1200-Year-Old Birdsong
An essay by Fanny Howe sent me in search of what she calls “a little poem by Priscian, the Irish monk who stayed in Switzerland in the ninth century.” Here’s the poem: A wall of forest looms above and sweetly the blackbird sings; all the birds make melody over me and my books and things. There sings to me the cuckoo from bush-citadels in grey hood. God’s doom! May the Lord protect me writing well, under the great wood.Read More