It’s reassuring
to recall a time when children were still respected, when their emotional and
intellectual capacities weren’t patronized or ignored by adults. The very
notion of titling a poetry anthology for young people The School of Poetry is admirable and wouldn’t be tolerated today.
Its editor is Alice Meynell (1847-1922), a once-popular English poet and mother
of eight. The collection was published in 1923, shortly after Meynell’s death
at age seventy-five. She continues in her introduction:
“I have taken
some poems for their happy, courageous, and honourable thought, some for the
very poetry of poetry. . . . The size of the book was, of course, limited;
there would have been matter, from the stores of past and present, for fifty
such books.”
The chronologically
arranged anthology contains not a trace of “children’s poetry,” the cute,
treacly stuff that fills volumes today. Nor is Modernism represented. In its
first forty pages we find Drayton, Shakespeare, Dekker, Jonson and Herbert. She
includes Herrick’s “A Thanksgiving to God, for his House,” with these charming
lines:
“Lord, I
confess too, when I dine,
The pulse is Thine,
And all
those other bits, that be
There plac’d by Thee;
The worts,
the purslain, and the mess
Of water-cress,
Which of Thy
kindness Thou hast sent;
And my content
Makes those,
and my beloved beet,
To be more sweet.”
Meynell
provides no trigger-warnings for Milton’s “On His Blindness,” Cowper’s “On the Loss of the Royal George” or Laurence
Binyon’s “For the Fallen.” Introducing the Binyon, she writes: “These grave
lines sound as though they had cost tears, and our tears answer them. Nothing
simpler could be written, and nothing greater.” Meynell is not afraid of
rousers or barn-burners. Here a lines from a poem by Allan Cunningham I had
never heard before:
“And white
waves heaving high, my lads,
The good ship tight and free—
The world of
waters is our home,
And merry men are we.”
I’m
surprised Meynell includes only one of Kipling’s poems, the mandatory
“Recessional” (“Lest we forget—lest we forget!”). Of it she writes:
“A
recessional hymn is one that is used after a ceremony—it is the sequel to a
processional hymn. Rudyard Kipling, the soldier’s poet, has written many an
inspiring and inspiriting processional poem, but nothing finer than this poem,
hymn, and prayer—this afterthought of a patriot. Surely, while unhappily there
is war in the world, every patriot, every soldier, should have an afterthought
like this.”
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