“Going
through my books of poetry, I came upon an old favorite, one of the earliest
books I acquired when I began at Stanford in 1944-45. . . . I bought it just at
the end of my second year at Stanford, probably at a bookstore in Palo Alto.
There were quite a few excellent stores at that time. That I spent my
hard-earned money on Herbert tells me that I must have already had contact with
[Yvor] Winters and was exploring his favorite poets.”
I’ve been
reading Herbert again in Helen’s gift, known in the book trade as an
association copy, though I would never consider selling it. The volume carries
an extra current of personal significance. Reading it is a privilege, almost
like reading with Helen at my side. Herbert is a poet who invites memorization –
the ultimate gauge of a poem’s worth – though I have only lines or stanzas
socked away, no complete poems. Somewhere I remember reading that Elizabeth
Bishop considered Herbert and Chekhov her favorite writers. Here’s the Herbert sonnet
I’m trying to memorize, “Prayer (I)”:
“Prayer the
church’s banquet, angel’s age,
God’s breath
in man returning to his birth,
The soul in
paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage,
The
Christian plummet sounding heav’n and earth
Engine
against th’ Almighty, sinner’s tow’r,
Reversed
thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear,
The six-days
world transposing in an hour,
A kind of
tune, which all things hear and fear;
Softness,
and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss,
Exalted manna,
gladness of the best,
Heaven in
ordinary, man well drest,
The milky
way, the bird of Paradise,
Church-bells
beyond the stars heard, the soul’s blood,
The land of
spices; something understood.”
I have a weakness
for list poems. “Prayer” is one long sentence, a catalog of synonyms for
prayer.
I never noticed before how much that poem sounds like Marianne Moore -- do you hear it too?
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