{"id":4561,"date":"2024-02-29T11:39:48","date_gmt":"2024-02-29T16:39:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/?p=4561"},"modified":"2024-02-29T11:41:55","modified_gmt":"2024-02-29T16:41:55","slug":"a-poem-for-a-thursday-254-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2024\/02\/29\/a-poem-for-a-thursday-254-2\/","title":{"rendered":"A Poem for a Thursday #255"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-large\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/katja-moller-WawFSpNJZ30-unsplash-1024x771.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-4562\"\/><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">Photo by <a href=\"https:\/\/unsplash.com\/@katjamoeller?utm_content=creditCopyText&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_source=unsplash\">Katja M\u00f6ller<\/a> on <a href=\"https:\/\/unsplash.com\/photos\/a-large-body-of-water-surrounded-by-a-lush-green-hillside-WawFSpNJZ30?utm_content=creditCopyText&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_source=unsplash\">Unsplash<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<div style=\"height:50px\" aria-hidden=\"true\" class=\"wp-block-spacer\"><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Seamus Heaney was an Irish poet and playwright. He wrote over 20 volumes of poetry and criticism. In 1995 he won the Nobel Prize for Literature for &#8220;works of lyrical beauty and ethical depth, which exalt everyday miracles and the living past.&#8221; At one time, his books made up two-thirds of the sales of living poets in the U.K. After his death playwright Tom Stoppard said of him &#8220;Seamus never had a sour moment, neither in person nor on paper.&#8221; <\/p>\n\n\n\n<div style=\"height:50px\" aria-hidden=\"true\" class=\"wp-block-spacer\"><\/div>\n\n\n\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">And some time make the time to drive out west\nInto County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,\nIn September or October, when the wind\nAnd the light are working off each other\nSo that the ocean on one side is wild\nWith foam and glitter, and inland among stones\nThe surface of a slate-grey lake is lit\nBy the earthed lightning of a flock of swans,\nTheir feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,\nTheir fully grown headstrong-looking heads\nTucked or cresting or busy underwater.\nUseless to think you'll park and capture it\nMore thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,\nA hurry through which known and strange things pass\nAs big soft buffetings come at the car sideways\nAnd catch the heart off guard and blow it open.\n\nPostscript \nSeamus Heaney<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Seamus Heaney was an Irish poet and playwright. He wrote over 20 volumes of poetry and criticism. In 1995 he won the Nobel Prize for Literature for &#8220;works of lyrical beauty and ethical depth, which exalt everyday miracles and the living past.&#8221; At one time, his books made up two-thirds of the sales of living poets in the U.K. After his death playwright Tom Stoppard said of him &#8220;Seamus never had a sour moment, neither in person nor on paper.&#8221; And some time make the time to drive out west Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore, In September or October, when the wind And the light are working off each other So that the ocean on one side is wild With foam and glitter, and inland among stones The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans, Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white, Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads Tucked or cresting or busy underwater. Useless to think you&#8217;ll park and capture it More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there, A hurry through which known and strange things pass As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways And catch the heart off guard and blow it open. Postscript Seamus Heaney<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4562,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4561","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poem-for-a-thursday"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4561","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4561"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4561\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4564,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4561\/revisions\/4564"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4562"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4561"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4561"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4561"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}