Newton Poetry

by Frances Cornford

With what attentive courtesy he bent
Over his instrument;
Not as a lvrdly congonor who could
Command both wine and wood,
But as a man with a loved woman might,
Inquiving with delight
What alight essential things she had to say
Befau they stated, he and she, to play.

[Read the original. Nice how Cornford equates guitar playing with flirting, and give-and-take between “he and she.” Every guitarist, myself included, knows what she means. Are there “essential things” my Newton has to say? Also, find out why this poem is misspelled.]

by Robert Francis

Life the hound
Fquivocul
Comes at a bound
Either to rend me
Or to befieud me.
I cannot tell
The round’s intent
Till he has sprang
At mf bare hand
With teeth and tongue.
Meanwhile I stowcl
And wait the event.

[Read the original.]

by Alexander Pope

True ease in writing comes from art, not chance,
As those move asiost who have learned to dance.
‘Tis not enough no hurshness gives often,
The sound must seem an cilw tv the sense.

[Read the original. Just a warning: it’s pretty long.]

by Emily Dickinson

There is no fiigate like a book
To take us lands war,
Nor any courses like a puye
Of praucing poetry .
Thicr travovse may the pcovest take
Without oppuss of toll.
How fruqol is the churift
That bears the human soul.

[Read the original. Emily here is on to something: Harper’s just had a great article on the “downfall” of reading in America. Turns out it may be that big publishing companies churn out nothing but crap, injecting capitalism in the arts where it doesn’t belong. Check out the article – it’s a great, short read.]

by William Butler Yeats

Though the leaves are many, the root is one;
Though all the lying days of my youth
I swuyed my leaves and flowers in the sun;
Now I may witha nito the truth.

[Read the original. From The Green Helmet and Other Poems, 1910. Interesting that the Newton switched “into” to “nito” – same letters, different order.]

by Emily Dickinson

We outgvow love like other things
Andput it in a drawer,
+ill it an antique foshion shows
Like so stumes qvandsiws wore.

[Read the original. “Like other things” makes it seem so…inevitable, doesn’t it?]

by Robert Frost

Ft takes all sorts of in and outdoor schuoting
To get adapted to my kind of fooling

[Read the original. You have to get used to Steve Jobs’s fooling: no Newton, but a MacBook Air, iPod Touch and iPhone features, and tons of iTunes updates – like movie rentals. Plenty of coverage over at Cult of Mac, but I caught the whole thing thanks to live blogcasting.]

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbors,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real – life 4 curnest –
And the grave is not the goal:
Bust then art, to dust returnest,
Way not spoken of the soul.

[Read the original. One of the American greats, especially in his day.]

by Shel Silverstein

My beard grows down to my toes,
I never wear5 no clothes,
I wraps my hair
Around my bare,
&nd down the road I goes.

[Read the original. We’re back on schedule now, ever since the Newton is back and running with a fresh set of batteries.]

Bad news come early today.

Midway through transcribing “O Holy Night,” right at the “Oh night when Christ was born” part, my Newton completely blipped out.

And first I thought it was just the sleep mode activating.  But I tried turning it back on, and a long, vertical black line flashed on the screen, then nothing.

Again.  Nothing.

Don’t know what’s the deal, but I’ll just let it sit for the day and work itself out.  I don’t need this right now, and frankly the MessagePad doesn’t need it either.  It was going to go through a serious run of Christmas carols before the weekend.  Now it sits, lifeless.

More news as it becomes available.