The Unspoken - Edwin Morgan

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When the troopship was pitching round the Cape

in '41, and there was a lull in the night uproar of

    seas and winds, and a sudden full moon

swung huge out of the darkness like the world it is,

and we all crowded into the wet deck, leaning on

    the rail, our arms on each other's shoulders,

    gazing at the savage outcrop of great Africa.

and Tommy Cosh started singing 'Mandalay' and

    we joined in with our raucous chorus of the

    unforgettable song,

and the dawn came up like thunder like that

    moon drawing the water of our yearning

though we were going to war, and left us exalted,

that was happiness,

but it is not like that.

When the television newscaster said

the second sputnik was up, not empty,

but with a small dog on board,

a half-ton treasury of life orbiting a thousand

    miles above the thin television masts and mists

    of November,

in clear space, heard, observed,

the faint far heartbeat sending back its message

steady and delicate,

and I was stirred by a deep confusion of feelings,

got up, stood with my back to the wall and my

    palms pressed hard against it, my arms held

    wide

as if I could spring from the earth ---

not loath myself to go out that very day where

    Laika had shown man, felt

my cheeks burning with old Promethean warmth

rekindled --- ready ---

covered my face with my hands, seeing only an

    animal

strapped in a doomed capsule, but the future

    was still there, cool and whole like the moon,

waiting to be taken, smiling even

as the dog's bones and the elaborate casket of

    aluminium

glow white and fuse in the arc of re-entry

and I knew what I felt was history,

its thrilling brilliance came down,

came down,

comes down on us all, bringing pride and pity,

but it is not like that.

But Glasgow days and grey weathers, when the

    rain

beat on the bus shelter and you leaned slightly

    against me, and the back of your hand touched

    my hand in the shadows, and nothing was

    said

when your hair grazed mine accidentally as we

    talked in a cafe, yet not quite accidentally,

when I stole a glance at your face as we stood in a

    doorway and found I was afraid

of what might happen if I should never see it again,

when we met, and met, in spite of such differences

    in our lives,

and did the common things that in our feeling

became extraordinary, so that our first kiss

was like the winter morning moon, and as you

    shifted in my arms

it was the sea changing the shingle that changes

    it

as if for ever (but we are bound by nothing, but

    like smoke

to mist or light in water we move, and mix) ---

O then it was a story as old as war or man

and although we have not said it we know it,

and although we have not claimed it we do it,

and although we have not vowed it we keep it,

without a name to the end

Edwin Morgan (1920 - 2010)

This poem reflects back on three distinct events in the life of the poet. Three highlights and each event with high emotional content and clearly memorable - to the extent that words cannot be spoken in any description - and hence the title is clear ... words always fail in trying to communicate to another.

The question is how much of an essence is conveyed ... and that, of course, depends on the reader as much as the words themselves.

The three stanzas could easily be three separate poems in their own right. They conjure up very different images. It is hard for the reader to switch thought between each recollection – at least it was for me when I first read this poem.

There are number links across the stanzas … the prime one being the depth of feeling … but the moon occurs in each stanza …

The moon is considered to rule the senses and emotions. It is an archetype for the fickle and changeable. Furthermore, the moon's phases are often connected with female attributes. The phases feature references to the Maiden, the Mother, the Matron, and the Crone … this paragraph taken from Wikipedia.

… each stanza represents an unearthly experience … the moon has mystery, another world … unknown … just as these personal experiences will always remain unknown … how can we really describe/share those very personal happenings in our life!

… the troopship rounding the Cape in moonlight happened when Edwin was only 21 … so despite going to war the adventure of seeing Africa from the ship was paramount … the war had yet to make a personal impact … what an apt world to choose to define Africa (=savage) ... a double meaning in the context of the journey to war … note that the last line of the stanza underlines the title … a discount to all that he has said

… the second stanza is later in Edwin’s life … that contrast between the fate of Laika and the precursor to the future of manned space travel … what an achievement for man, for Laika … the falling back of the debris is mirrored to the concept of history coming down … again the last line negates the text … today we take manned space travel for granted … fortunately no Laika is needed to test procedures … (Promethean = boldly creative) ... the moon ready to be taken - and in a sense this has happened

… the last stanza … the first kiss equated to winter morning moon … the sea changing shingle – never to be the same again … but the last five lines are a change from the first two stanzas (it is not like that) … now we have the affirmative … We Know It without being said … We Do It without the need for statement … We Keep It without vow … it is as though there is something deep inherent in us (unspoken) … as old as man … and really when it comes down to it is the very core of our being … the touch of love

… and of course there is unspoken commonality that can be shared without the need for words

Edwin Morgan - Scotland's greatest poet? ... here is a website link ...

http://www.edwinmorgan.com/bio_index.html

Hardy's Grave at Stinsford Church - Images

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The Hardy family worshiped at Stinsford church close to 'Max Gate' and Dorchester. Hardy's heart is buried in the grounds. He is, of course, also recognised in the Poets Corner in Westminster Abbey.

Stinsford Church

Hardy's Grave

The information notice at the church

The following poem was written on his 86th birthday as a reflection on life ...

He Never Expected Much

Well, World, you have kept faith with me,

Kept faith with me;

Upon the whole you have proved to be

Much as you said you were.

Since as a child I used to lie

Upon the leaze and watch the sky,

Never, I own, expected I

That life would all be fair.

'Twas then you said, and since have said,

Times since have said,

In that mysterious voice you shed

From clouds and hills around:

"Many have loved me desperately,

Many with smooth serenity,

While some have shown contempt of me

Till they dropped underground.

"I do not promise overmuch,

Child; overmuch;

Just neutral-tinted haps and such,"

You said to minds like mine.

Wise warning for your credit's sake!

Which I for one failed not to take,

And hence could stem such strain and ache

As each year might assign.

Thomas Hardy

Life is not fair - whatever fair means. However, in my book, we have 'the means of dealing with everything that comes our way' ... that is according to my God.

A great philosophy - to expect little in life, often you get much more.

Interestingly Cecil Day Lewis asked to be buried as close as possible to Hardy and his grave is close by ...

The grave of Cecil Day Lewis at Stinsford Church, Dorset

Hardy's Home - Max Gate - Images

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'Max Gate' was the name of the house that Hardy built near Dorchester - the name taken from a toll road gate. The photos below were taken in August 2012 of the home as it now stands (a National Trust Property) - taken on a typical foreboding Hardy day of cloud and drizzle.

He started work to be an architect before turning to writing. He designed and put much thought into his house. He lived here and died here - with his first wife Emma and after she died with Florence. 'Max Gate' would be the starting point for many an escape into the local countryside. He also had a cycle and Dorchester was easily reached.

Before the images here is a poem (written after Emma died) -

The Walk

You were weak and lame

You did not walk with me

Of late to the hill-top tree
By the gated ways,
As in earlier days;
So you never came,
And I went alone, and I did not mind,
Not thinking of you as left behind.

I walked up there to-day

Just in the former way;
Surveyed around
The familiar ground
By myself again:
What difference, then?
Only that underlying sense
Of the look of a room on returning thence.

Thomas Hardy

From the drive

 

The rear garden

 

His study

 

Hardy had no children. He did have a great love of dogs and there is a dog cemetery in the garden. One of his most love dogs was called 'Wessex'.

He wrote a wonderful poem after Wessex died - the voice of the dog to the household ... see this link ...  http://foreverfoxed.blogspot.com.au/2008/10/famous-fox-terriers-no-1-thomas-hardys.html



 



Hardy's Cottage at Higher Bockhampton

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First a poem in relation to his childhood and his deep connection with nature ...

Childhood Among the Ferns

I sat one sprinkling day upon the lea,
Where tall-stemmed ferns spread out luxuriantly,
And nothing but those tall ferns sheltered me.

The rain gained strength, and damped each lopping frond,
Ran down their stalks beside me and beyond,
And shaped slow-creeping rivulets as I conned,

With pride, my spray-proofed house. And though anon
Some drops pierced its green rafters, I sat on,
Making pretence I was not rained upon.

The sun then burst, and brought forth a sweet breath
From the limp ferns as they dried underneath:
I said: 'I could live on here thus till death;'

And queried in the green rays as I sate:
'Why should I have to grow to man's estate,
And this afar-noises World perambulate?'

Thomas Hardy

The following are images of Hardy's cottage at Higher Bockhampton, Dorset the cottage where he was born (a National Trust Property). The photos were taken in August 2012 on a cloudy drizzling summer day ...

 The Approach through woodland

 From the garden

Hardy's Bedroom was the front top right window

In this room he wrote 'Far From the Madding Crowd'

A pedigree chart is displayed on his bedroom wall

We Field-Women - Thomas Hardy

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Below is the poem We Field-Women by Thomas Hardy. The original manuscript for this poem is held by Reading Uninversity.

For a detailed discussion of this poem and it's relationship to the text of Tess of the d'Uberrvilles see this link ... https://www.reading.ac.uk/web/FILES/special-collections/featurehardypoem.pdf

We Field-Women

How it rained

When we went to Flintcomb-Ash,

And could not stand upon the hill

Trimming Swedes for the slicing-mill.

Wet washed through us – plash, plash, plash:

How it rained!

How it snowed

When we crossed from Flintcomb-Ash

To the Wheat Barn for drawing reed,

Since we could nowise chop a swede.

Flakes in each doorway casement-sash:

How it snowed!

How it shone

When we went from Flintcomb-Ash

To start at dairywork once more

In the laughing meads, with cows threescore,

And pails, songs, love – too rash:

How it shone!

Thomas Hardy

Three very simple six line stanzas with rhyming scheme abccba. Repetition of first line of each stanza with the last stanza line - a short and dominant line defining the background to the content of work in the fields - rain/snow/sun. These defining lines pervade the in-between lines - soak into the very being of that text.

Weather, environment and work defining life for those that worked in the rural conditions of the mid ninteenth century (see the above wedsite for details on how Tess was involved in the rural work of her time as defined by Hardy's novel).

If you feel so inclined and enjoy playing with words you could try choosing three different 'atmospheres' for the three stanzas and then filling in according to the rhyme template abccba, for example -
                                 how we worked ... /how we ate ... /how we slept

... this only involves creating 12 lines of text ... of course, you could extend to 4 stanzas and include extra dimensions eg winter/spring/summer/autumn - or equally reduce to two and follow back/white contrasting backgrounds.

Hardy and Egdon Heath

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From ‘The Return of the Native’ …

‘Distilled by the sun, kneaded by the moon, it is renewed in a year, in a day, or in an hour. The sea changed, the fields changed, the rivers the villages and the people changed yet Egdon remained.'

Egdon Heath was Hardy's great background to the above work.

Here it is as it stands today ... these photos were taken in August on Winfrith Heath (from above Gatemore Road) in Dorset ... this area is part of Hardy's Egdon ... a few changes over the years - but still has a certain magic ...

 

How does climate, weather, environment effect the poet or writer?

Spring Arousal - The Gateway: A D Hope

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The Gateway

Now the heart sings with all its thousand voices
To hear this city of cells, my body sing.
The tree through the stiff clay at long last forces
Its thin strong roots and taps the secret spring.

And the sweet waters without intermission
Climb to the tips of its green tenement;
The breasts have borne the grace of their possession,
The lips have felt the pressure of content.

Here I come home: in this expected country
They know my name and speak it with delight.
I am the dream and you my gates of entry,
The means by which I waken into light.

A D Hope

This poem was taken from a book of love poems. The above describes the physical act from the male perspective. Do you think a tree is an appropriate metaphor? At a meeting half the audience thought it erotic (mainly the female component), half not. It is certainly very sexual – perhaps an over glorification.

Compare this poem to Judith Wright's Woman to Man … a poem written from the female perspective, from the other side so to speak.

Tenement = a room, or set of rooms, forming a separate residence in a block of flats

Erotic ... tending to arouse sexual desire or excitement.

Spring is about to happen in Canberra so look out for those green tips!

Chain Gang Gold

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	GB	OZ
	Gold
London	29	7
Beijing	19	14
Athens	9	17
Sydney	11	16

the four year cycle, that old refrain

     ‘Go Oz! ... grab gold again’

the media said ‘fifteen a piece’

we sat and watched in disbelief

we did our best, the best we could

though this was not well understood

for best is not quite good enough

unless it produces the golden stuff

to ashes went our dreams and hopes

lost on bikes and rowing boats

Brits are bathed in glory now

but not for Oz a mortal blow -

we’ll not fade in silver light

we’ll beat them Poms next time we fight

Richard Scutter 12 August 2012

A Song for Simeon - T S Eliot

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Lord, the Roman hyacinths are blooming in bowls and
The winter sun creeps by the snow hills;
The stubborn season has made stand.
My life is light, waiting for the death wind,
Like a feather on the back of my hand.
Dust in sunlight and memory in corners
Wait for the wind that chills towards the dead land.

Grant us thy peace.
I have walked many years in this city,
Kept faith and fast, provided for the poor,
Have taken and given honour and ease.
There went never any rejected from my door.

Who shall remember my house, where shall live my children’s children
When the time of sorrow is come ?
They will take to the goat’s path, and the fox’s home,
Fleeing from the foreign faces and the foreign swords.

Before the time of cords and scourges and lamentation
Grant us thy peace.
Before the stations of the mountain of desolation,
Before the certain hour of maternal sorrow,
Now at this birth season of decease,
Let the Infant, the still unspeaking and unspoken Word,
Grant Israel’s consolation
To one who has eighty years and no to-morrow.

According to thy word,
They shall praise Thee and suffer in every generation
With glory and derision,
Light upon light, mounting the saints’ stair.
Not for me the martyrdom, the ecstasy of thought and prayer,
Not for me the ultimate vision.
Grant me thy peace.

(And a sword shall pierce thy heart,
Thine also).

I am tired with my own life and the lives of those after me,
I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me.
Let thy servant depart,
Having seen thy salvation.

T S Eliot

The poem is based on the biblical text of Luke 2 29-32 - which forms the canticle Nunc dimittis (know as the Song of Simeon) ... the basic words from the 1662 Book of Common Prayer based on the King James version of the Bible are ...

Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word.
For mine eyes have seen thy salvation,
Which thou hast prepared before the face of all people;
To be a light to lighten the Gentiles and to be the glory of thy people Israel.

This poem is discussed in detail on the following excellent Blog Site of Patrick Comerford ... 

http://revpatrickcomerford.blogspot.com.au/2011/04/nunc-dimittis-in-ts-eliots-song-for.html

... a note on the lines
-  And a sword shall pierce thy heart,Thine also ... the suggestion is that Simeon is talking to both Mary and God, both of the parents, on what will eventually happen to the baby.
- I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me. - and those before? ...
For mine eyes have seen thy salvation,
Which thou hast prepared before the face of all people