TWO POETS AND THEIR POETRY

 

TWO POETS AND THEIR POETRY

             By two poets I mean William Wordsworth (1770-1850) and Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834). Both were English romantics of the first phase. They were  also conspicuous  for their theory of poetic language which was marked by true simplicity and directness. Wordsworth held  : “There is no difference between the language of prose and the language of poetry. “ Coleridge wrote his own definition of a poet.

“What is a poet? To whom does he address himself? And what language is to be     expected from him? He is a man speaking to men: a man, it is true, endowed with

more lively sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness, who has a greater knowledge of human nature and a more comprehensive soul than are supposed to be common among mankind; a man pleased with his own passions and volitions, and who rejoices more than other men in the spirit of life that is in him; delighting to contemplate similar volitions and passions as manifested in the goings-on of the Universe, and habitually impelled to create them where he does not find them.“

 

The extracts that follow from a few poems of these poets are true to the spirit of the final lines of the definition given  in the above extract.     

 

            “There was a time when meadow, grove and stream,

            The earth, and every common sight,

                      To me did seem

                      Apparelled in celestial light,

            The glory and the freshness of a dream.

            It is not now as it hath been of yore;---

                       Turn whereso’er I may.

                        By night or day.

            The things which I have seen  now can see no more.

                                                                                                (William Wordsworth)

 

            But now ill tidings bow me down to earth,

            Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth ---

            But oh ! Each visitation

            Suspends what nature gave at my birth,

            My shaping spirit of imagination !

                                    …….

            To be beloved is all I need,

            And whom I love, I love indeed.

                                    ……

            Alone, alone, all, all alone,

            Alone on a wide, wide sea !

            And never a saint took pity on

            My soul in agony-

O Sara ! we receive but what we give,

            And in our life alone does nature live.

                                    ………        (S. T. Coleridge)

 

Both Wordsworth and Coleridge regarded direct contact  with nature as a necessary condition of mental and spiritual health.

 

 Books ! ‘tis a dull and endless strife :

Come, hear the woodland linnet,

How sweet his music ! on my life,

There’s more of wisdom in it.

 

And hark ! how blithe the throstle sings !

He too is no mean preacher !

Come forth into the light of things,

Let Nature be your teacher.

                        ……

              Let Nature be your teacher is also my message for the readers of this short note on ‘Two Poets And Their Poetry.’

 

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13^th April 2022                                                                        G.R.KANWAL

FREEDOM : A POEM BY J.R.LOWELL

    

 

                             FREEDOM : A POEM BY J.R.LOWELL

“Freedom” is a short but significant poem written by the American romantic poet James Russell Lowell(22.2.1819-12.8.1891).

             This poet had taken his degree from the Harvard Law School in 1840. During his relatively long professional period, he was a poet, teacher, critic, editor and diplomat.

His family life was rather unfortunate. By 1853, he had four children three of whom died. His wife also passed away. These events depressed him extremely, so much so that he could not reignite his poetic fires and turned to prose.

            Lowell wrote a lot during  his lifetime and earned great reputation. But regrettably enough today he is considered as one of the  minor poets in American literature.

As a poet and editor of several magazines, his main interest was in anti-slavery subjects. “Freedom” is one of those poems where he defines slaves and freemen in his own way.

The poem ‘FREEDOM”  reads as follows:  

“THEY are slaves who fear to speak

For the fallen and the weak ;

They are slaves who will not choose

Hatred, scoffing, and abuse ;

Rather in silence shrink

From the truth they needs must think ;

They are slaves who dare not be

In the right with two or three.”

 

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7^th April 2022                                                 G.R.KANWAL

 

           

 

 

 

 

 

RISE ! FOR THE DAY IS PASSING

 

RISE ! FOR THE DAY IS PASSING

“Rise! for the day Is passing” is the first line of the poem  ‘NOW’ written by the English poet Adelaide Anne Proctor. She was a precocious child who began to compose significant poems as a teenager,  and got them  published in popular journals.  

Unfortunately, she fell a prey to tuberculosis, then an incurable disease which spread through air. Thus, her life span shrank from 30^th October 1825 to 2^nd February 1864.

‘NOW’ is one of her best poems.  It is motivational in nature  and has an eternal counsel for every human being.  The poet talks about the comparative importance of time  - the Present, the  Past and the Future. In her view, the present moment alone is the most reliable one for any effective  action. “The Past and Future are nothing /In the face of the stern Today.”  

She exhorts  the readers to rise from their dreams of the future, of gaining some hard-fought field, or storming some airy fortress or bidding some giant yield. Their future has deeds of glory and of honour (God grant it may!), but their  arm will never be stronger, or the need so great as today.

The poet compares the world to a battlefield where everyone has a fixed role to play.  The one who reaches there earlier than others wins the battle and occupies the field.    

The message of the poet for shedding lethargy , avoiding vain memories of the past and refraining  from fantasies about the future is everlasting.  It is not a message for any particular person or for any particular day, it is  one for whole humanity and for all times to come.

The full text of the poem reads as follows:

Rise! For the day is passing ,

And you  lie dreaming on;

The others have buckled their armour,

And forth to the fight are gone;

A place in the ranks awaits you,

Each man has role to play;

The Past and Future are nothing,

In the face of the stern today.

 

Rise from your dreams of the Future,

Of gaining some hard-fought field;

Of storming some airy fortress,

Of bidding some giant yield;

Your Future has deeds of glory,

Of honour (God rant it may!)

But your arm will never be stronger,

Or the need so great as Today.

 

Rise! if the Past detains you,

Her sunshine an storms forget;

No chains so unworthy to hold you

As those of a vain regret;

Sad or bright, she is lifeless ever;

Cast her phantom arms away,

Nor look back, save to learn the lesson

Of a nobler strife Today.

 

Rise! For the day is passing;

The sound hat you scarcely hear

Is the enemy marching to battle: -

Arise  for the foe is here!

Stay not to sharpen your weapons,

Or the hour will strike at last.

 

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5^th April 2022                                          G. R. KANWAL

THE UNQUIET GRAVE

 

THE   UNQUIET  GRAVE

The wind doth blow today, my love,

And a few small drops of rain;

I never had but one true-love,

In cold grave she was lain.

 

I’ll do as much for my true-love

As any young man may;

I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave

For a twelvemonth and a day.

 

The twelvemonth and a day being up,

The dead began to speak;

“Oh, who sits weeping on my grave

And will not let me sleep?”

 

“ ‘Tis I, my love, sits on your grave

And will not let you sleep;

For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,

And that is all I seek.”

 

“You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips;

But my beath smells earthly strong;

If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,

Your time will not be long.

 

“ ‘Tis down in yonder garden green.

Love where we used to walk,

The finest flower that ere was seen

Is withered to a stalk.

 

“The stalk is wither’d dry, my love,

So will our hearts decay ;

So, make yourself content, my love,

Till God calls you away.

 

            This ballad is a fourteenth century composition of an unknown poet.  It is a folk song that has been recited even in modern times by singers like Luke Kelly. The answer-question form of the song lends it a special charm.  According to interpreters this ballad is based on the belief that graves of dead persons become “unquiet”. And the restless ghosts enact an angry or violent haunting because excessive grief prevents their leaving the earth. This belief is an ancient one, far older than the poem.  The mourner in the ballad  who mourned one year and a day  refuses to accept that his time is  is up, and as a result, “the dead began to speak”.

  

            This six centuries old ballad is an all-time relevant folk composition because of its three permanent themes of love, life and  death.

 

            First, the lover’s claim “I never had but one true-love”. This makes him incurably restless.  He can’t fill the void by having another mistress. Secondly, the inevitability of death in all nature: ‘The finest flower that ere was seen/Is withered to a stalk.”  Here, the hint is that the lovers will have the same fate as the finest flower” “The stalk is wither’d dry, my love, ’So will our hearts decay. “  Then,  what is the way for the separated lovers  to get out of unquietness  The answer is: : …make your heart content, my love./Till God calls you away.”

 

            This  ballad has surely a spiritual touch, namely, contentment alone can end unquietness. To be quiet while sticking to the physical allurements of this world is impossible.  One has to be called away to the kingdom of God after dropping all the yearnings of material life to become eternally quiet.

 

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27^th March 2022                                                         G.R.KANWAL

O ! MY FOOLISH HEART India’s greatest Urdu poet Mirza Asadullah Khan Gha

 

O ! MY  FOOLISH  HEART

                   India’s greatest Urdu poet Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib (1797-1869) asks in one of his ghazals :

DiI-e-nadan tujhe hua kya hai

akhir is dard ki dava kya hai

 

A simple English translation of this verse is as follows:

“O! my foolish heart , what has happened to you?  You are crying for something impossible. It is well known that whatever a lover may do, the pain of love finds no relief.  

 

            So, what should the heart do ?  Naturally, it should stop crying and continue to bear the pain . The heart is the centre of love’s pleasant and unpleasant emotions. Union between the lover and the beloved, which happens rarely, creates gratifying  feelings. In the entire love  poetry of the  world, love remains ungratified. A lover seeks a perfect alliance with his lady love, but fails to get it.  This disappointment , however painful it may be, is not to the disadvantage of the lover, because it tremendously activates his mind and imagination and turns him into a poet of  heart-touching verses.

 

 

            Ghalib became a great poet because of his unrequited love. In another heart-touching verse: he admits:

 

            Ye na thi hamari qismat ke visal-e-yar hota

            Agar  aur  jite   rahte   yahi    intizar      hota      

(Me and my lover were not destined to be united.  Long wait yielded no result.  Any further waiting, too, would have remained fruitless).

           

            Gratified love is comic. It does not touch those tragic heights which . ungratified love does. That is why all great and sublime poetry is the result  unrequited love.

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19^th March 2022                                    G.R.Kanwal

  

L I T T L E T H I N G S

 

L I T T L E   T H I N G S

            Little things are little in size but not in importance.  In fact, all big things are congregations of small things. A big house is a collection so many bricks.  An hour is a sum total of sixty minutes and a minute is an aggregate of sixty seconds and a second is a group of so many fractions of a second.

We cannot imagine about big things without imaging their small components.  Even our noses , whatever be their size, are combinations of numerous layers of skins. It means all big things are dependent upon their smallest possible particles. What does it mean then? We must not abhor little things.  On the contrary we must love them because without their existence big things cannot come into existence. 

According to Ecclesiasticus “He that despises small things, shall fall by little and little. “ And in the words of  Robert Smith, the English Clergy (1818-1895) , most of the critical things in life, which become the starting points of human destiny, are little things.

English Chemist, Sir  Humphrey Davy (1778-1829) makes a more striking statement when he says: Life is made up , not of great sacrifices or duties, but of little things, in which smiles and kindness and small obligations, given habitually, are what win and preserve and secure comfort.    

                English poet Martin Farquhar Tupper (1810-1889) makes us much wiser when he says: Despise not small things, either for evil or good, for a look may work thy ruin, or a word create thy wealth.---A spark is a little thing, yet it may kindle the world.

                Note unforgettably: A spark is a little thing, yet may kindle the world.

                Finally,  a short poem by American poet and author, Julia Abigail Fletcher (1823-1908). The title of her poem is:

                                                                LITTLE THINGS

 For which is best remembered till today. It was set to music and published in educational textbooks for more than half a century. It is an inspirational poem which inspires both young and old  to live every  minute  of one’s with great gusto. 

A humble minute ,says she,  is not a  humble  fraction of time. In its generative potentiality , it is  the begetter of  mighty ages and  endless eternity. Hence, we should spend it most vigorously and to the maximum benefit.

                The poem reads as follows:

Little drops of water,

Little grains of sand,

Make the mighty ocean

And the pleasant land

 

Thus the little minutes,

Humble though they be,

Make the mighty ages

Of eternity.

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17^th March 2022                                                                              G.R.Kanwal

 

 

 

SILENCE AS MYSTICS VIEW IT

SILENCE AS MYSTICS VIEW IT      

                I remember the school-days advice “Think before you speak  and look before you leap.” It is still a good piece of advice. Thoughtful speaking is far better than thoughtless utterance which may be sheer nonsense .  

Silence is a much broader subject. It has also existential and  spiritual connotations. It may not be wrong to believe that silence preserves energy and prolongs  life.   

Self-imposed silence is  both a social and spiritual discipline. We find many places like hospitals, libraries, dormitories , yoga halls, meditation centres, etc. where sound is disallowed.  

                Given below, on the importance of silence.  are the views of four  renowned mystics.

First: Guyon Madam, French mystic (1648-1717). There are three kinds of silence. Silence from words is good, because inordinate speaking tends to evil. Silence, or rest from desires and passions is still better  because it promotes  quietness of spirit. But the best of all is silence from unnecessary and wandering thoughts, because that is essential to internal recollection and because it lays a foundation for a proper reputation and for silence in other respects.

Second: Ralph Waldo Emerson, American poet, essayist, philosopher (1803-1882). What a strange power there is in silence ! How many resolutions are formed, how many sublime conquests effected, during that pause when lips are closed, and the soul secretly feels the eye of her Maker upon her ! They are the strong ones of earth who know how to keep silence when it is a pain and grief unto them, and who give time to their own souls to wax strong against temptation.  

 Third: Hazrat Inayat Khan, Indian Sufi mystic (1882-1927). There is an intoxication in activity, and nowadays activity has increased so much that from morning till evening there is never any repose, owing to our daily occupations which keeps us continually on the move.  And at night we are so  tired that we want only to sleep, and next morning the activity begins anew.  By this kind of life much is destroyed; man is so eager for his enjoyments that he does not think of the life that is there to be enjoyed.  Every person should have at least an hour a day in which to be quiet, to be still   

 Fourth: Indian mystic Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, globally known as Osho (1931-1990). There is only one dialogue with existence and that is in silence. Try it with anything as an experiment – even with a rock. Be silent with it --- take it in your hand and be silent ---and there will be a communion. But you cannot use language with it, the rock doesn’t know any language. Because you use language, you cannot be related to it. Man has lost silence completely. When you are not doing something, you are not silent; the mind goes on doing something or other. Because of this continuous  inner talk, this continuous inner chattering, you are not  related to anything, not even to your beloved ones. Only through silence is one related.

                 And finally, as American Statesman Benjamin Franklin (1706-90) said: None preaches better than the ant, and also says nothing.

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7^th March 2922                                                              G.R.Kanwal