The winter poplars stand
Strange masts with spars
Under cold stars.
I shall wait a myriad sail of leaves
In spring rains and winds.
I shall bend in starboards and lees
Still riddling the pilgrim signs
Toward the always mysterious ends.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Vance Vance Devolution
The editors discuss the Jensen Huang scandal, the uncertain future of the “new right,” and whether the…
Nature’s God is Not Enough
In the Republic, Plato writes that unless liberated by philosophy, by the awakening of the divine part…
Letters—December 2026
In “The Left Is Right About the Bible” (October 2026), Mark Bauerlein makes a strong case that…
