One needn’t be a fetishist or even a book collector – reader is close enough -- to prize an “association copy,” a term neatly defined here: “A book that belonged to or was annotated by the author, someone close to the author, a famous or noteworthy person, or someone especially associated with the content of the work.” The full title of the volume in question is The Poetical Works of George Herbert. With Life, Critical Dissertation, and Explanatory Notes, by the Rev. George Gilfillan, published by D. Appleton & Co., N.Y., in 1854. The front end paper is signed in black ink: “Helen A. Pinkerton 12-1945.” Poet, scholar, one-time student of Yvor Winters and J.V. Cunningham, Helen gave me the leather-bound volume in 2015 and died two years later.
The only marks Helen left
in the book are minute dots and checks beside the titles of eleven poems in the
table of contents, including my favorite Herbert poem, “The Flower,” with the beginning of the sixth of its seven stanzas:
“And now in age I bud
again,
After so many deaths I
live and write.”
Herbert renders encouragement
to late-bloomers and anyone else who has been stalled, tired, sick, preoccupied
or otherwise blocked by life. In 2019, just months away from his death by
cancer, Clive James was introduced to “The Flower” by a friend, a gift he wrote
about in an essay:
“[B]ack there in the
middle of the 20th century I somehow missed it, when I was first reading
Herbert in the Albatross Book of Living Verse, which we used to call the
‘Book of Living Albatrosses.’ How I ever missed anything in Herbert’s prolific
output is a puzzle. He fascinated me from the jump, almost as much as Marvell.
I blame Herbert for not calling himself Marvell every time. A poet called
Herbert will occasionally be overlooked; call yourself Wonderful and everything
will get into the list of contents.”
Herbert was born on this
date, April 3, in 1593 and died in 1633 at age thirty-nine.