Featuring Dogen

yarn inspiration-
The unspoiled colors of a late summer night,
The wind howling through the lofty pines –
The feel of the autumn approaching;
The swaying bamboos keep resonating,
And shedding tears of dew at dawn;
Only those who exert themselves fully
Will attain the Way,
But even if you abandon all for the ancient path of meditation,
You can never forget the meaning of sadness.

And with that The Dead Poets Sock Club is closed for a while. I loved doing it and plan to open it up again in the near future!

Featuring Dogen

yarn inspiration-

In spring wind
peach blossoms
begin to come apart.
Doubts do not grow
branches and leaves.

This will be the last round of the Dead Poets Sock Club for a little while, the rest of the year at least.

This round features Zen Buddhist, Dogen, who is not like our typical poet, but his writing is beautiful.

This colorway, Dogen, was inspired by his writings from the Wondrous Nirvana-Mind,

Even plants and trees,
Which have no heart,
Wither with the passing days;
Beholding this,
Can anyone help but feel chagrin?

Third pkg for PDY’s Dead Poets Sock Club featuring poet John Keats.

This colorway, Mermaid Tavern, was inspired by Lines on the Mermaid Tavern by John Keats

SOULS of Poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
Have ye tippled drink more fine
Than mine host’s Canary wine?
Or are fruits of Paradise
Sweeter than those dainty pies
Of venison? O generous food!
Drest as though bold Robin Hood
Would, with his maid Marian,
Sup and bowse from horn and can.

I have heard that on a day
Mine host’s sign-board flew away,
Nobody knew whither, till
An astrologer’s old quill
To a sheepskin gave the story,
Said he saw you in your glory,
Underneath a new old-sign
Sipping beverage divine,
And pledging with contented smack
The Mermaid in the Zodiac.

Souls of Poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?

Second pkg for PDY’s Dead Poets Sock Club featuring poet John Keats.

Original inspiration, Hither, Hither, Love by John Keats

Hither hither, love—
‘Tis a shady mead—
Hither, hither, love!
Let us feed and feed!

Hither, hither, sweet—
‘Tis a cowslip bed—
Hither, hither, sweet!
‘Tis with dew bespread!

Hither, hither, dear
By the breath of life,
Hither, hither, dear!—
Be the summer’s wife!

Though one moment’s pleasure
In one moment flies—
Though the passion’s treasure
In one moment dies;—

Yet it has not passed—
Think how near, how near!—
And while it doth last,
Think how dear, how dear!

Hither, hither, hither
Love its boon has sent—
If I die and wither
I shall die content!

This rounds featured poet was revealed to be John Keats. I was going to go with a washed out black, yellow, red and white combo in honor of his Grecian Urn poem, but in the spirit of Halloween I ditched the white and went dark with the other three colors

This is Keats’ Halloween Urn, photos taken by member Leslie (udontcallmeles) because I forgot to take spoiler photos. Included in this shipment were K bookmarks, Keats magnet and cedar wood balls.

Original inspiration, Ode on a Grecian Urn by John Keats

Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thou express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring’d legend haunt about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter: therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal – yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” – that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

Last pkg for PDY’s Dead Poets Sock Club featuring poet Edna St. Vincent Millay.

The colorway, Persephone, was inspired by the poem Prayer to Persephone-

Be to her, Persephone,
All the things I might not be:
Take her head upon your knee.
She that was so proud and wild,
Flippant, arrogant and free,
She that had no need of me,
Is a little lonely child
Lost in Hell,—Persephone,
Take her head upon your knee:
Say to her, “My dear, my dear,
It is not so dreadful here.”

(stitchmarkers and candy not visible & photo borrowed from club member, Karen, thank you Karen!)

Second pkg for PDY’s Dead Poets Sock Club featuring poet Edna St. Vincent Millay.

The colorway, Little Ways, was inspired by the poem The Spring and The Fall-

In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The trees were black where the bark was wet.
I see them yet, in the spring of the year.
He broke me a bough of the blossoming peach
That was out of the way and hard to reach.

In the fall of the year, in the fall of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The rooks went up with a raucous trill.
I hear them still, in the fall of the year.
He laughed at all I dared to praise,
And broke my heart, in little ways.

Year be springing or year be falling,
The bark will drip and the birds be calling.
There’s much that’s fine to see and hear
In the spring of a year, in the fall of a year.
‘Tis not love’s going hurt my days.
But that it went in little ways.

First pkg for PDY’s Dead Poets Sock Club. The featured poet was revealed to be Edna St. Vincent Millay.

The yarn is named after the poet and inspired by her and her poem First Fig-

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light!

Last pkg for PDY’s Dead Poets Sock Club, Langston Hughes round.

The colorway was inspired by the poem Love Song for Lucinda:

Love
Is a ripe plum
Growing on a purple tree.
Taste it once
And the spell of its enchantment
Will never let you be.

Love
Is a bright star
Glowing in far Southern skies.
Look too hard
And its burning flame
Will always hurt your eyes.

Love
Is a high mountain
Stark in a windy sky.
If you
Would never lose your breath
Do not climb too high.