Orange oil in darkness — A poetic view of two ways of doing linguistics

Orange oil in darkness

The useful part
of things is elegance --
in mathematics, bridges.

Even in hedges
of ripe persimmons
or mandarin oranges,

elegance solves
for the minimum possible
then dissolves.

The art is what's extra:
a fragrance penciled in,
or long division's inescapable reminder.

Not quite unplanned for,
more the unexpected, impractical gift.
Not the figures traced

in the bridge's stanchions,
but the small
and lovely sounds they make in the wind.

Who drew that in?
Who could have?
...

-- Jane Hirshfield "The Lives of the Heart"

This poem sums up about as well as anything the aesthetic that I've come to after three decades in linguistics.   I am profoundly moved by the elegance of language, and it is something that I try to convey to my students and in my writing.  But I'm also delighted by the quirky art of language -- the delicate curlicues, impractical extravagances, and intensely detailed categorizations of the world.   I seem to only be happy in linguistics when I'm able to be both moved and delighted!