September twenty-second, Sir: today
I answer. In the latter part of May,
Hard on our Lord’s Ascension, it began
...
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Holy this is just too much just too much. How can could anyone write like this? Feel like this? It’s just too much.
Spell-binding capture of the Puritan idiom. Maybe a verbatim culling, like the Bishop Trollope poem.
A well articulated narrative piece nicely penned with insight. Thanks for sharing.
An impressive insight into the impulse to self-mutilation. Wonderfully historically informed. The Once we saw him...' bit is shrewd theater and re-focuses the reader's visual attention at just the right moment
A real masterpiece in every respect, especially in capturing the idiom of the period. I used to teach the literature of the period at Harvard and knew Robert Lowell. To me, this is one of his best poems.