Even before we passed the bears (who sat
Like mourners in a church, their great brown paws
Still and flat across their knees), we heard her sing,
A high, sweet echo of cathedral song.
And when we turned the corner, there she was,
A slender woman sheathed in red who leaned
Against the pool and sang a plangent song
To all the penguins swimming in the blue.
Beneath the surface they flashed, their wings
More gray than black, their too-thin bellies clean
And pale as faded whites just from the wash.
Her voice was full of grief, as if she knew
About diminishment, about the trapped.
She sang to all that’s broken, bruised, or flawed.
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
War abroad. Socialists on the rise. AI upending human life. Endless uproar online. The modern attention economy doesn’t want readers — it wants users enslaved to the tyranny of the present.
First Things is the antidote: literary excellence, timeless truths, and a fixed point of reference in a culture that has lost its bearings.
But we can’t do it without readers like you.
Our goal: Raise $150,000 by November 1 to sustain First Things in the year ahead.
Your gift anchors readers in the permanent things.
Make your Fall Campaign gift now using the button below.
If you have any questions or would like more information, please contact Giovanni Del Piero, Director of the Editor’s Circle, at gdelpiero@firstthings.com or 212-627-1985.
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