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Welcome to Quarry Hill's Blog!

Quarry Hill Creative Center in Rochester, VT, founded 1946 by Barbara and Irving Fiske, is Vermont's oldest alternative community and at one time was probably also its largest. In the 60s -80s, as many as 90 people lived here.
It was and is visited each year, often in summer (but in every season, really) by visitors from all over the world.
We welcome interesting and creative people who are peaceful, bring no weapons, don't believe in hitting children or killing animals, and enjoy the beauty of Vermont and of themselves.

Most of us do not adhere to any particular dogma or religion, though many do find Eastern philosophy closest to our own thought (some of us are also members of the Quakers/Society of Friends).
We value the individual, particularly people who are energetic and have a sense of humor.
Visitors are welcome-- and prospective residents, too. There are some places for rent, others for sale. If interested, get in touch!
And, please follow the Blog and comment whenever you like!

"The symbol is the enemy of the reality, and the reality is ever one's true guide, true friend, true companion, and true self." Irving Fiske, 1908-1990

Friday, February 22, 2013

Irving Fiske's Poems of Truth and Beauty

Poems by Irving Fiske (two "Poems of Truth"--
"Mothers are a worthy institution /In every earthly nation.
If it wasn't for them there'd be a diminution/In the population."
"Sex is divided into two sections/that come together in several connections. Connections legal and illicit:/ If we didn't have sex, I bet we'd
miss it."

One "Poem of Beauty"


When I consider how my days are spent
In yearning for a liquid that's dark brown
Upon its sparkling bubbles all intent
In every chocolate soda stand in town,
I lift my glass again to drink it down,
While gloomy thoughts my unquiet soul derange
Of ordering a strawberry soda for a change.

But then the glass aglow with velvet sheen
Before my eyes recaptures old delight
Its cool and sudden touch all thoughts unclean
All imaginings unhallowed banish quite
As dark, oppressive skies of blackest night
Are banished by the morning's eastern hue--
To my old love I drink my love anew.

Like as the mists wind-borne towards heaven ascend,
So do the bubbles swirling upwards stream.
Each upon the other hastening to its end
In tiny bursts of splendor where the ice cream,
Chocolate, too, in flavor, fluffy as a dream,
Floating crowns the liquid, nectar for a king,
Fresh and sweet and cool, good like anything!

Ah, were mine the glory, mine the final power
With all the elements to do with as I please,
I'd make SUCH a chocolate soda, from all the seven seas,
To reach from Earth to Venus, from Venus back to Mars,
Cooled for my drinking by Heaven's frozen stars!
Since I am but mortal, slave to space and time,
I reach into my pocket, and fish out another dime."

Probably written in Greenwich Village in the 1940s...
(After John Keats)
By Irving Fiske

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