Reading up about Wolpe led me to his second wife Hilda Morley and Robert
Creeley at Black Mountain - the latter writes some wonderful words to
her memory on the Buffalo site, including these very moving ones:
A day ago I was in front of people reading Keats' "Ode to a
Nightingale," because that /music/ so seemed to me all that was ever the
point. I found myself crying -- as I do now also."That thou,
light-winged Dryad of the trees,/ In some melodious plot/ of beechen
green, and shadows numberless,/ Singest of summer in full-throated
ease..." It is your /summer/, your /ease/, he speaks of. That, I know we
agree, is the one moment ever to be prized.
mj
--
"I was crazy to come to this country, because I was liked a free country." - Sacco
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