Ah, the magic of an email chain…
If you missed it (how could you not, it was only a day ago), yesterday I posted about an email chain that’s been making the rounds, particularly through my inbox.
Per usual, I felt the slightest flash of annoyance.
But in these times, I’m game for more connection. (Although, I confess: I did alter the text in the email copy, making it self-aware that it’s both an email chain and totally voluntary. I refuse to feel guilty about this.) Anyway, once again, I opened up my poetry books, and found a poem that resonated with me.
I found this in the anthology of “American Sonnets,” curated by David Bromwich.
DEAR FRIENDS Dear friends, reproach me not for what I do, Nor counsel me, nor pity me; nor say That I am wearing half my life away For bubble-work that only fools pursue. And if my bubbles be too small for you, Blow bigger than your own; the games we play To fill the frittered minutes of a day, Good glasses are to read the spirit through. And whoso reads may get him some shrewd skill; And some unprofitable scorn resign, To praise the very thing that he deplores; So friends (dear friends), remember, if you will, The shame I win for singing is all mine, The gold I miss for dreaming is all yours. -Edwin Arlington Robinson