Sunrise, Lake Burley Griffin, Canberra
Easter Sunday
the world is charged with the grandeur of God
Gerard Manley Hopkins
Easter is for the optimist.
An extension cord
powered by imagination
connects to a caring creator
to glow in the mind
believing the unbelievable
that humanity has a bright future
and life is eternal.
For the pessimist
unseeing, the door closes
on such possibilities
the blind mind denies
darkness prevails
the switch not reached.
Richard Scutter
There is great musicality in this structured lament on the unrequited homosexual love of A. E. Housman for Moses Jackson – a student he met at university. My comments are in italics after each of the four stanzas.
Because I Liked You Better
Because I liked you better
Than suits a man to say,
It irked you, and I promised
To throw the thought away.
Not easy to admit homosexuality in Victorian times. There was no like response from Jackson – it irked him.
To put the world between us
We parted, stiff and dry;
‘Good-bye’, said you, ‘forget me’
‘I will, no fear’, said I.
Jackson went to America and Housman said he would forget him – later we see this is a somewhat cynical response.
If here, where clover whitens
The dead man’s knoll you pass,
And no tall flower to meet you
Starts in the trefoiled grass,
There is only common ground clover on the ‘dead Housman knoll’ … a tall flower never bloomed – his love never came to fruition. The white flowering could indicate both purity and coldness.
Halt by the headstone naming
The heart no longer stirred,
And say that the lad that loved you
Was one that kept his word.
Housman’s heart at last dead to his love … and it is only in death that Housman forgets him – and thus he kept his word.
A. E. Housman (1859-1936)
Remembrance
Cold in the earth—and the deep snow piled above thee,
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time’s all-severing wave?
Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover
Over the mountains, on that northern shore,
Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover
Thy noble heart forever, ever more?
Cold in the earth—and fifteen wild Decembers,
From those brown hills, have melted into spring:
Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers
After such years of change and suffering!
Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee,
While the world’s tide is bearing me along;
Other desires and other hopes beset me,
Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!
No later light has lightened up my heaven,
No second morn has ever shone for me;
All my life’s bliss from thy dear life was given,
All my life’s bliss is in the grave with thee.
But, when the days of golden dreams had perished,
And even Despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy.
Then did I check the tears of useless passion—
Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;
Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten
Down to that tomb already more than mine.
And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?
Emily Bronte
Eight four line stanzas with rhyming scheme abab. It is regarded as iambic pentameter though the lines vary in syllables – so iambic pentameter with variations …
And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,
^ ^^ ^ ^ / ^ ^ ^ ^ ^^ = 11
Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
^ ^^ ^ ^ / ^ ^^^ ^^ = 11
How could I seek the empty world again?
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ / ^^ ^ ^^ = 10
Emily Bronte wrote the poem for the heroine in the ‘Gondal’ story she created with her sister Anne – so it doesn’t relate to any personal event in her life.
C. Day Lewis stated that the effect of the rhythm in ‘Remembrance’ is ‘extremely powerful, extremely appropriate’ and that ‘it is the slowest rhythm he knew in English poetry, and the most sombre.’
It is certainly a slow and sombre lamentation. It also uses repetition to remain caught in any forward movement as in – cold in the earth in the opening line of stanza 1 and stanza 2. And in stanza 5 – All my life’s bliss from thy dear life was given, / All my life’s bliss is in the grave with thee, also the repeat of dare not in the last stanza.
The last stanza indicates a moving on and a more positive ending than remaining wallowing in the grave of another.
I think one syllable words lend themselves to a slow rendition (e.g. cold, snow, slow). Consider – the old train moves down the track – by a slow reading we can give the impression that the train is moving slowly.
To digress, consider these two lines …
Quick Mick do it – a case of not labouring the words and joining ‘do’ and ‘it’ as one.
John shook hands with great aunt Jo – difficult not to take your time when reading. If aunt Jo is old and feeble John would have to take his time when shaking hands!
The Tomato
I love the tomato,
they come in all shapes and sizes.
There are so many varieties
it’s very hard to choose
best to keep to the one you know.
Perhaps they all taste the same.
But the real test, of course,
is when you actually taste them.
When they are ripe and just
ready for the taking.
It’s really up to you, you know
when you put them in your sandwich.
If you add your special spice of course
then you will really taste something!
But take your time, savour the flavour.
Richard Scutter 14 February 2016
My response to e e cummings in my previous post, and I hope you all enjoy your tomato sandwich!
e e Cummings – may i feel
may i feel said he
(i’ll squeal said she
just once said he)
it’s fun said she
(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she
(let’s go said he
not too far said she
what’s too far said he
where you are said she)
may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she
may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you’re willing said he
(but you’re killing said she
but it’s life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she
(tiptop said he
don’t stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she
(cccome? said he
ummm said she)
you’re divine! said he
(you are Mine said she)
This e e cummings poem is very easy on the mind unlike many of his poems which require some thought. A rhyming conversation piece of sexual tension between ‘he’ and ‘she’ … and I guess that when this piece was written it would have been quite an audacious poem. As well as the simple four line ‘he/she’ voices there are internal rhyming words throughout.
The third stanza from the end provides a nice twist in thought as infidelity is at play and such liaisons always come at a cost. But love is always costly in one way or another. Is love, or is it lust, worth the cost of such a relationship?
At a recent poetry meeting there was some debate on the last line with the capitalisation of ‘Mine’. Perhaps this highlights the fact that the lady is taking ownership on a temporary basis to that which belongs to another. It reminded me of the praying mantis insect where the female devours the male after copulation!
It is a great conversational performance poem with a gentleman reading and a lady responding. We did this at our poetry meeting and it was very effective. Note that love and lust are four letter words unlike sex.
The Immortal Part
When I meet the morning beam,
Or lay me down at night to dream,
I hear my bones within me say,
‘Another night, another day.
‘When shall this slough of sense be cast,
This dust of thoughts be laid at last,
The man of flesh and soul be slain
And the man of bone remain?
‘This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout
These thews that hustle us about,
This brain that fills the skull with schemes,
And its humming hive of dreams,—
‘These to-day are proud in power
And lord it in their little hour:
The immortal bones obey control
Of dying flesh and dying soul.
”Tis long till eve and morn are gone:
Slow the endless night comes on,
And late to fulness grows the birth
That shall last as long as earth.
‘Wanderers eastward, wanderers west,
Know you why you cannot rest?
‘Tis that every mother’s son
Travails with a skeleton.
Lie down in the bed of dust;
Bear the fruit that bear you must;
Bring the eternal seed to light,
And morn is all the same as night.
‘Rest you so from trouble sore,
Fear the heat o’ the sun no more,
Nor the snowing winter wild,
Now you labour not with child.
‘Empty vessel, garment cast,
We that wore you long shall last.
—Another night, another day.’
So my bones within me say.
Therefore they shall do my will
To-day while I am master still,
And flesh and soul, now both are strong,
Shall hale the sullen slaves along,
Before this fire of sense decay,
This smoke of thought blow clean away,
And leave with ancient night alone
The stedfast and enduring bone.
A. E. Housman
Strong iambic rhythm and rhyme in each of the four line stanzas (aabb).
As I get older my bones are in tune with the bone-talking words expressed in the first stanza (but I can recommend glucosamine). And I liked the way he talked of death as a birth in stanza five – And late to fulness grows the birth / That shall last as long as earth.
Getting to the bones of this poem, looking at the last stanza and the first line – before this fire of sense decay … while we are master over flesh and before the decay to everlasting bone – the immortal part (if indeed bones last forever) let us make the most of our being! And don’t let’s concentrate our thoughts on that enduring bone or that ancient night! This smoke of thought blow clean away – line two of the last stanza.
Housman was an atheist and a somewhat depressive character. Even so it is interesting to have a look at one of his quotes …
The troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
He believed that we can bear all our troubles and not only we can bear them but he states that we must bear them. Let’s face it, what creator (or God if you like) would design a universe where we were not capable of bearing our troubles – it’s not worth thinking of … it would be such a horrid scenario – in this sense he at least believed in a good creator.
I have just released my first poetry book for general distribution. A great moment in the life of Richard … according to a grand-daughter ‘epic’ … a new word that’s being bandied around by the young.
‘My Word in Your Ear’: Selected Poems: 2001 – 2015
A selection of eighty poems covering a wide variety from the the personal, philisophic and spiritual to the more lighter and sometimes firvolous.
Here is one poem …
The Healthy Worm
with apologies to William Blake
O worm, thou art ’earthy!
the visible flower
that shines in the light
of the bright day
has raised from thy bed
of rotten decay
and opened her face
from thy composted waste
This is my poetic response to the well known poem ‘The Sick Rose’ by William Blake. An interesting follow up on the previous post and the sonnet on ‘death and life’ by John Crowe Ransom. In Blake’s ‘The Sick Rose’ the worm (death, or perhaps sin) is hidden from the beauty of the rose (young life) and the rose knows not of its fate. The worm being analogous to the serpent.
The last two lines … And his dark secret love / Does thy life destroy … so again there is a marriage where ‘death’ is seen as a lover – all beit an insidious lover … not quite the gentleman seen in the ‘Piazza Piece’ sonnet of John Crowe Ransom.
I give the worm credit in the creation of beauty in the rose (visible flower) and so laud the value of the worm that through decomposition new life is generated … part of the unending earth cycle of life and death.
Piazza Piece
–I am a gentleman in a dustcoat trying
To make you hear. Your ears are soft and small
And listen to an old man not at all;
They want the young men’s whispering and sighing.
But see the roses on your trellis dying
And hear the spectral singing of the moon;
For I must have my lovely lady soon,
I am a gentleman in a dustcoat trying.
–I am a lady young in beauty waiting
Until my truelove comes, and then we kiss.
But what grey man among the vines is this
Whose words are dry and faint as in a dream?
Back from my trellis, Sir, before I scream!
I am a lady young in beauty waiting.
John Crowe Ransom
This is a Petrarchan sonnet – an eight line octave plus a six line sestet (with rhyme scheme ‘abbaacca’ / ‘addeea’). It is a well-crafted delightful conversation piece ostensibly between a gentleman wooing a young and beautiful lady.
The first line and the last line of the octave are the same. This is the story of the octave that of the gentleman trying to get the attention of the young and beautiful lady. The gentleman is old wearing a dustcoat and talks of the fading nature of the lady in terms of roses. He states emphatically that he must have my lovely lady soon and there is a ghostly presence in the spectral singing of the moon.
The first line and the last line of the sestet are the same and this is the story of the response – a lady young in beauty waiting and waiting for her truelove. The lady is young and dismissive of the grey old man and only hears him as in a dream.
I think this is really the age old story of a ‘romantic death’ in the form of a gentleman and his relationship with ‘life’ and making the most of life and the present moment. And of course the voice of death will become more prominent in the ears of the lady and eventually the old grey man will win her over. It is interesting that death is masculine and ghostly whereas life is feminine and beautiful. And very appropriate that the gentleman is wearing a dustcoat. I think there is something of a sweet pending marriage of the two taking place in this poem.
This poem gives emphasis to the present and not having idealistic expectations. Life is a present to be opened and used now– not waiting for that perfect moment before acting (carpe diem Latin – seize the day). Maybe it is time to open that special bottle of wine you have been keeping in your cellar!
my word in your ear 