I have noted a number of entries for some reason quoting Lovecraft's bit about being tied to raw, new things -
It's a bit tiresome, and I, for one, at my age can think of a number of "raw, new things" I would love to be tied to - hmmmm - verrrrry curious -

Also, the quote is taken out of context; I believe Lovecraft was referring specifically to a straightjacket made out of fresh rabbit fetuses. I could be mistaken, of course.

XXX. Background (from Lovecraft's sonnet cycle Fungi from Yuggoth)

I never can be tied to raw, new things,
For I first saw the light in an old town,
Where from my window huddled roofs sloped down
To a quaint harbour rich with visionings.
Streets with carved doorways where the sunset beams
Flooded old fanlights and small window-panes,
And Georgian steeples topped with gilded vanes -
These were the sights that shaped my childhood dreams.

Such treasures, left from times of cautious leaven,
Cannot but loose the hold of flimsier wraiths
That flit with shifting ways and muddled faiths
Across the changeless walls of earth and heaven.
They cut the moment's thongs and leave me free
To stand alone before eternity.


Myself, whenever I see the quotation that Calonlan mentions, I find tiresome pretty much everything that precedes it, as well.

Your theory is also compelling, of course!

Quote:

Your theory is also compelling, of course!

I like yours better, actually, but we must explore all the possibilities.

Absquatch Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> XXX. Background (from Lovecraft's sonnet cycle
> Fungi from Yuggoth)
>
> I never can be tied to raw, new things,
> For I first saw the light in an old town,
> Where from my window huddled roofs sloped down
> To a quaint harbour rich with visionings.
> Streets with carved doorways where the sunset
> beams
> Flooded old fanlights and small window-panes,
> And Georgian steeples topped with gilded vanes -
> These were the sights that shaped my childhood
> dreams.
>
> Such treasures, left from times of cautious
> leaven,
> Cannot but loose the hold of flimsier wraiths
> That flit with shifting ways and muddled faiths
> Across the changeless walls of earth and heaven.
> They cut the moment's thongs and leave me free
> To stand alone before eternity.
>
>
> Myself, whenever I see the quotation that Calonlan
> mentions, I find tiresome pretty much everything
> that precedes it, as well.


A poem of HPL that I did not know - and a very good one whose sentiments place him squarely in the Shire with Frodo - a true Hobbit attitude - including, that where adventure takes one, the yearning is still for the Rosie and the quiet Burrow - (although, perhaps HPL might not have yearned, like Sam, for Rosie).