A longlegs, a moth, and…the headmaster of Hogwarts.

I’m a big fan of the American Academy of Poets’ Poem-A-Day posts at Poets.org. (Oh my, there are quite a few “p” words in that sentence.) Anyway, recently they shared a lovely late summer poem by Thomas Hardy:

An August Midnight

I

A shaded lamp and a waving blind,
And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:
On this scene enter—winged, horned, and spined—
A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;
While ‘mid my page there idly stands
A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands…

II

Thus meet we five, in this still place,
At this point of time, at this point in space.
—My guests besmear my new-penned line,
Or bang at the lamp and fall supine.
“God’s humblest, they!” I muse. Yet why?
They know Earth-secrets that know not I.

Of course, it took me a couple of tries to read the whole thing, because on my first attempt, I got four lines in, and went, “OMG, ‘dumbledore’ is an actual word? TO THE DICTIONARY!

dumbledore (ˈdʌmb ə lˌdɔː)

— n
dialect ( English ) Also (Southwest English): drumbledrane a bumblebee

[Old English dumble , variant of drumble to move sluggishly + dor humming insect]

So that’s my word-of-the-day.

I’ve been neglecting the blog of late, but not my TBR pile, so I’ll be back soon with assorted musings.

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