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With Apologies to Housman

Home is the manuscript,
Home from New York,
the parcel returned from the slush.

I got the rejection letter in the mail Monday, but just wasn't in the mood to talk about it until today. The novel got a very good rejection (a letter with comments and a compliment, rather than a form rejection), but it's still a rejection. Oddly, I'm just fine with that: I'm not as in love with that book as I used to be, and I think the current one will be much, much better.

So it has officially become my first trunk book. Let's hope I don't write too many in that category...

Comments

the_monkey_king
Mar. 15th, 2007 07:39 am (UTC)
Re: Stevenson, not Housman, right?
No, it's not a parody, but it is a clear nod to the Stevenson (heck, it's name includes "RLS", so Housman isn't hiding his influence here). I stumbled across it, and since it was Housman that reminded me, I stuck with that. It goes:

XXII - R.L.S.

Home is the sailor, home from sea:
Her far-borne canvas furled
The ship pours shining on the quay
The plunder of the world.

Home is the hunter from the hill:
Fast in the boundless snare
All flesh lies taken at his will
And every fowl of air.

'Tis evening on the moorland free,
The starlit wave is still:
Home is the sailor from the sea,
The hunter from the hill.

Stevenson's Requiem is:

Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

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