We'll go no more a-roving
George Gordon, Lord Byron

So, we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.

Fore the sword outwears its sheath
And the soul wears out the breat,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.

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And so another poetry month comes to an end. Maybe some day I'll manage to actually post a poem a day for 30 days. A goal for next year, I guess!!

Going to Sleep
Hermann Hesse

Now that the day wearies me,
My yearning desire,
will receive more kindly,
like a tired child, the starry night.

Hence, leave off your deeds
mind, forget all thoughts;
All of my forces
yearn only to sink into sleep.

And my soul, unguarded,
would soar on widespread wings,
to live in a night's magical sphere
More profoundly, more variously.

Today I learned that pediatric neurology can sometimes be devastatingly sad.

I'm switching to general neurology at the main hospital tomorrow. I've heard that the service has been practically empty for the past two weeks, but I've already accepted the fact that it'll get real busy as soon as I'm on it. And I'm fine with that. Light days are great, but it might actually do me some good to be on a busy inpatient service again. Learning opportunities, and all that. Not to mention that after today I'm ready for any sort of change I can get.

I have to wake up at 6:15 tomorrow morning, and I kinda want to complain about it! Isn't it weird how quickly we can forget what it's like to have to wake up at 4:15?

I played trivia all by myself tonight, and got... what's the word?? Ah yes... OWNED. But I was actually this close to coming in 5th. Too bad I sucked it up on the final question. African geography is my enemy. Anyway, even if I was alone, I needed the time to decompress and do something fun.

And, a poem:

Holy Sonnet X
John Donne

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,
For those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

I'm going to bed soon, I promise. Before I do, here's another poem that is quoted in "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory."

Ode
Arthur O'Shaughnessy

We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams.
World-losers and world-forsakers,
Upon whom the pale moon gleams;
Yet we are the movers and shakers,
Of the world forever, it seems.

With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample an empire down.

We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

"This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man." -William Shakespeare, Hamlet

"Heaven gives its glimpses only to those
Not in position to look too close." -Robert Frost, "A Passing Glimpse"

"I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams." -WB Yeats, "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven"

"For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea" -ee cummings, "maggie&milly&molly&may"

"This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go." -Theodore Roethke, "The Waking"

Hello world!! I've officially begun my neurology clerkship. I'm doing Pediatric Neurology first. That's mostly outpatient clinic, but I'll also switch to the pediatric neurology consult service for a few days. This will make Pediatric Neurology the one hospital division in which I do inpatient, outpatient, and consults. So far, I'm having a great time in clinic. The people are nice (they're pediatricians!!), the kids are cute (parents not so much), and I find the subject matter really interesting.

Um, that's actually all I have to say. Sorry for being boring!
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Continuing on the theme I started yesterday, 'poems I read in high school English'...

The Eagle
Alfred, Lord Tennyson

FRAGMENT

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.

Happy Easter, dear readers! First thing I did this morning was write and submit a campaign "blurb" for the office of Cadaver Ball Chair. Then I went to church with Liz and Floyd. We actually got there early enough to have seats in the main sanctuary instead of the overflow room. Score. Instead of trying to fight the Easter brunch crowds, we came back to the apt for homemade quiche and other snacks. We watched this clip from 'Britain's Got Talent' a few times. Let me tell you, it's something special. Simon Cowell's reaction at the 3:22 mark is my favorite part.

Then we watched "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory." Willy (Gene Wilder) quotes the poem below right before the crazy-ass boat ride scene. I really like the rhythm of it.

Sea-Fever
John Masefield

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

I think the best thing about National Poetry Month is that I get to read a lot of poems, trying to decide which ones I want to post for you all. Hopefully the poems I share this month will help you find new favorites and rediscover old ones. Here's one of the Cavalier poets.

To Lucasta, on Going to the Wars
Richard Lovelace

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much
Loved I not honour more.

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Want to know something sad? I went out and "partied" tonight, and have already been back home for almost a whole hour. It's not even midnight yet, and I feel as tired as if it were well into the morning. A group of us planned to go to the roller derby, but we didn't get tickets in advance and it sold out. Instead, we got dinner at a crab shack type place. I had a crab cake "platter" which was good, but maybe not worth the amount of money I had to spend on it. The hush puppies were really good though. Not Ralph & Kacoo's good, but tasty. Then we went to a local bar and hung out briefly. We saw a guy select "Never Gonna Give You Up" on the jukebox, but didn't even stay long enough to see the entire establishment get Rick Roll'd.

Tomorrow will involve a lot of churchiness, but I also want to do a little bit of studying to prepare for starting neuro. I have the advantage of having already done pediatric neurology, as part of my pediatrics rotation. The difference is that then, I was doing inpatient medicine, and now I'll be doing outpatient. I expect that a lot of the patient visits will be followup appointments for seizure control, headaches and the like. I want to brush up on the various seizure disorders and the anti-seizure medications.

What's going on with all of you???

When You Are Old
William Butler Yeats

When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face among a crowd of stars.

So, I came up with "OB/Gyn Kenobi" during our group exercise today. Alas, I was not the first person to think of this delightful play on words, and there's already a blog out there with that name. I don't want to change my blogging name, but I did want to think that I was incredibly original and clever. Oh well!
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Also during one of today's Intersession... session, we were shown a clip from "The High and the Mighty," a John Wayne film. The discussion leader meant it as a humorous example of what not to do when speaking assertively. The scene where Wayne literally slaps around his co-pilot was made more humorous for me when toastedkelp, sitting next to me, loudly gasped "OH! MY GOODNESS! (clutching at pearls)" It's not so funny in the re-telling, but it was quite hilarious in the moment. She's going to get some teasing about that.
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Registration for fourth year classes opens up tomorrow at 7am. I'll be doing Emergency Medicine in November and Capstone (think of it as a month-long Intersession) in March. Those two won't change, but the rest of July through April is pretty much up to me. It's the most freedom I've had to choose classes since senior year of college.

Since I'm applying for ob/gyn residency, I hope to do a rotation in that field in July or August. Some, but not all, fourth year rotations are designated as "sub-internships" (sub-I for short). It means that as a VMS IV, I'll be taking on the same level of responsibility as a first year resident. Whether or not an elective rotation counts as a sub-I is determined by some committee whose inner workings I am not privy to. Anyway, we're required to do one sub-I in order to graduate. Tonight I found out that even though I'm applying in ob/gyn, my sub-I doesn't have to be one of the two ob/gyn electives that are designated as sub-Is. I could do a sub-I in the department of Surgery or Medicine or Pediatrics or whatever, as long as I did some rotation in Ob/Gyn.

Right now, my tentative plan is to spend the early months doing either Benign Gynecology or Gyn Onc, either General Medicine or Surgical Intensive Care, and possibly Urogynecology. In some order. I'd also like to do an elective in Medical Genetics, in which I'd learn about all those genetic syndromes that can sometimes be detected in utero. I've considered doing a month of GI or Hepatology, or maybe anesthesia? Or Dermatology? Or Radiology? I also need to do a month of primary care, hopefully back home. And a Trauma rotation could also be cool, if not a recipe for burnout. I dunno...I'm starting to think this freedom of choice thing may be overrated.
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( Here's today's poem. )

The Little Boy and the Old Man
Shel Silverstein

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded, "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.

When the World is Burning
Ebenezer Jones

When the world is burning,
Fired within, yet turning
         Round with face unscathed;
Ere fierce flames, uprushing,
O'er all lands leap, crushing,
         Till earth fall, fire-swathed;
Up amidst the meadows,
Gently through the shadows,
         Gentle flames will glide,
Small, and blue, and golden.
Though by bard beholden,
When in calm dreams folden,--
         Calm his dreams will bide.

Where the dance is sweeping,
Through the greensward peeping,
         Shall the soft lights start;
Laughing maids, unstaying,
Deeming it trick-playing,
High their robes upswaying,
         O'er the lights shall dart;
And the woodland haunter
Shall not cease to saunter
         When, far down some glade,
Of the great world's burning,
One soft flame upturning
Seems, to his discerning,
         Crocus in the shade.

Darn, I've already missed a day. The two translations can count for both the 3rd and the 4th!! The original... a bonus for my francophone readers.

Harmonie du Soir
Charles Baudelaire

Voici venir les temps où vibrant sur sa tige
Chaque fleur s'évapore ainsi qu'un encensoir;
Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l'air du soir;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige!

Chaque fleur s'évapore ainsi qu'un encensoir;
Le violon frémit comme un coeur qu'on afflige;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige!
Le ciel est triste et beau comme un grand reposoir.

Le violon frémit comme un coeur qu'on afflige,
Un coeur tendre, qui hait le néant vaste et noir!
Le ciel est triste et beau comme un grand reposoir;
Le soleil s'est noyé dans son sang qui se fige.

Un coeur tendre, qui hait le néant vaste et noir,
Du passé lumineux recueille tout vestige!
Le soleil s'est noyé dans son sang qui se fige...
Ton souvenir en moi luit comme un ostensoir!

( Want my translation? Too bad. These are by people with talent and skill. )

I leave for Nashville tomorrow afternoon. This week has gone by quickly, but I suppose that's to be expected when you sleep ten hours at a time. I needed this time to just relax and turn my brain off* (see below). I can't say I'm not a little jealous of my friends who went to fun exotic places. But neither of my parents is in any shape for traveling, nor could we afford it even if they were. So I spend my vacations at home, hanging out with them. Our time together is precious, don't you know.

*The other night Mom and I played a thrilling game of anagrams. Dad would pick a random word from the dictionary and time us as we came up with all the anagrams we could in three minutes. One of the words he picked was 'coccidiosis.' Mom submitted the word 'coccidiosi,' saying "I made it singular!!" A great time was had by all. Seriously, the older I get, the more I understand how I became the nerd I am today.

In honor of my family's dorktastic-ness, I decided to find an anagrammatic poem to share with you guys today. The number of websites devoted to all things anagram is making my head swim. Oh, the internet. It never ceases to amaze.

Every line in this poem is an anagram of the title. And it's a sonnet to boot!

Washington Crossing the Delaware
David Shulman

A hard, howling, tossing water scene.
Strong tide was washing hero clean.
"How cold!" Weather stings as in anger.
O Silent night shows war ace danger!

The cold waters swashing on in rage.
Redcoats warn slow his hint engage.
When star general's action wish'd "Go!"
He saw his ragged continentals row.

Ah, he stands - sailor crew went going.
And so this general watches rowing.
He hastens - winter again grows cold.
A wet crew gain Hessian stronghold.

George can't lose war with's hand in;
He's astern - so go alight, crew, and win!

Freshman orientation week at Emory includes the planting of a tree on campus in honor of the entering class. At my class's tree ceremony, the president of the university gave a brief speech, then invited anyone who wanted to step up to the microphone and read or recite any tree-related writing that we wanted. Right now, I'm throwing up in my mouth at the thought of such horrific cheesiness. But not seven years ago! No, bright-eyed, excited-to-start-college, seventeen-year-old LaKedra stepped right up to that microphone and recited the poem below. That's right folks: with no prior notice, I was ready and willing to recite, from memory, a poem about trees. And that is why I was still getting my lunch money stolen as a college student.

Loveliest of Trees
A.E. Housman

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

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Happy National Poetry Month!!!

Where the Sidewalk Ends
Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Tomorrow, I will recap the events of today (including triviaaaaaaaa!). For now, I give you a poem.

Journey into the Interior
Theodore Roethke

In the long journey out of the self,
There are many detours, washed-out interrupted raw places
Where the shale slides dangerously
And the back wheels hang almost over the edge
At the sudden veering, the moment of turning.
Better to hug close, wary of rubble and falling stones.
The arroyo cracking the road, the wind-bitten buttes, the canyons,
Creeks swollen in midsummer from the flash-flood roaring into the narrow valley.
Reeds beaten flat by wind and rain,
Grey from the long winter, burnt at the base in late summer.
-- Or the path narrowing,
Winding upward toward the stream with its sharp stones,
The upland of alder and birchtrees,
Through the swamp alive with quicksand,
The way blocked at last by a fallen fir-tree,
The thickets darkening,
The ravines ugly.

In Cities, Be Alert
Annie Finch

You may hear that your heartbeat is uneven
and let new tension climb around your shoulders,
thinking you've found the trick for going mad.
But try to keep a grip on where you are.

Remember: all around you is pure city;
try to stay alert. On the wide streets,
so empty late at night, streaking in glass,
the color of an alley, or the fall

of a sideways flicker from a neon sign
may utterly and briefly disconcert you—
but as you go, you'll find that noise is worse.
Prepare for noise. But never scream. Even tensing

ears too far in advance can sharpen sirens,
and as for horns. ... When you're back to
your normal rhythm after such encounters,

just try to stay alert. You'll never know
exactly who is coming up behind you,
but the sudden movement of pedestrians
will finally, of course, be what disarms you.

Uh oh, I missed two poetry postings!. That's because my weekend was pretty jam-packed busy.

On Friday, I woke up when the little hand was still on the 6, to do a bit of last-minute reviewing for my Pharm exam. I could've just slept, because the reviewing didn't help. The exam was pretty rough, and not just because there was an entire lecture's worth of material that I completely forgot to learn. As in, the first time I saw the stuff was when I opened the exam. Whoops!

Then I lunched with prospective students, and ran straight from there to BLS renewal training for three hours. I had a teeny bit of time to rest, before it was time for dinner with prospective students, then going out to a bar with prospective students. I'll admit, I spent most of the time at the bar hanging out with my friends, but at the other events I stuck my neck out. My table at dinner was me, and nine prospectives. In other words, me facing a barrage of questions from strangers. It was actually pretty fun!

On Saturday I put on the tour guide hat one more time, helping to take groups of VMS 0s to see the new anatomy lab, an organ recital, and the simulation center. It was exhausting to be "on" and talk to so many people, but I'm glad I did it. In this time of chronic burnout, it was good for me to be surrounded by a ton of people who were truly excited about things like organ recitals and the anatomy lab. I actually do get to do lots of awesome things. With this boost in motivation, I might be able to make it to May 15 with only 2 or 3 breakdowns.

( To catch up, I give you a trifecta of sonnets. )

Second-to-last Pharm exam tomorrow morning. I think you can imagine how I spent today.

Second Look Weekend festivities started today, but I'm going to start going to stuff tomorrow. Part of me thinks I'm a little too stressed to be selling the school. However, I also think it'll be good to talk to newbies, and be reminded of the time I was actually happy and excited to be in medical school. (That's right, in a world full of suffering, I complain when my only obligation in life is to sit on my butt and study. Yes, I would like some cheese with this whine.)

( Now, a poem. )