“Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo.”~Don Marquis

When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
I fondly ask; but Patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts, who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best, his state
Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.

As far as I’m concerned, this poem is a meditation on physical disability and the grace of God. Do those who are only able, in our estimation, to “stand and wait”, have value and do service to God? Are the mentally handicapped, the physically disabled, the senile, and the incapacitated all a part of God’s plan, grace, and mercy, too? I believe that they are. I believe that the child with Down’s syndrome, the old woman in a coma, and the quadriplegic all can have meaningful, worthy lives within God’s wisdom, that they, too, have a part to play in God’s world, maybe a more important and vital role than those of us who are healthy and capable.

Milton’s fear:
“Again, it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his property to them. To one he gave five talents of money, to another two talents, and to another one talent, each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey. The man who had received the five talents went at once and put his money to work and gained five more. So also, the one with the two talents gained two more. But the man who had received the one talent went off, dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money.
“After a long time the master of those servants returned and settled accounts with them. 20The man who had received the five talents brought the other five. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘you entrusted me with five talents. See, I have gained five more.’
“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’
“The man with the two talents also came. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘you entrusted me with two talents; see, I have gained two more.’
“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’
“Then the man who had received the one talent came. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So I was afraid and went out and hid your talent in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you.’
“His master replied, ‘You wicked, lazy servant! So you knew that I harvest where I have not sown and gather where I have not scattered seed? Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest.
‘Take the talent from him and give it to the one who has the ten talents. For everyone who has will be given more, and he will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken from him. And throw that worthless servant outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’
Matthew 25:14-30

Milton’s peace:
He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8

“Poetry is the clear expression of mixed feelings.”~W.H. Auden

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love’s day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast;
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart;
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapt power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Andrew Marvell was friends with the poet John MIlton. Milton gave him a job as a secretary, and later after Cromwell’s reign, when Milton was imprisoned during the Restoration, Marvell used his influence have Milton freed. Marvell was, at various times in his life, a Member of Parliament, an ambassador, a satirical poet, an essayist and a pamphleteer. Most of his poems were printed posthumously, probably because they would have been quite offensive in their satire of his fellow politicians and of other public figures.

As for the poem, I rather like this reply to Mr. Marvell by A.D. Hope:

“Poetry: things that are true expressed in words that are beautiful.”~Dante

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack’d anything.

“Truth, Lord, but I have marr’d them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.”
“And know you not,” says Love, “who bore the blame?”
“My dear, then I will serve.”
“You must sit down,” says Love, “and taste my meat.”
So I did sit and eat.

“Poetry fettered, fetters the human race. Nations are destroyed or flourish in proportion as their poetry, painting, and music are destroyed or flourish. “~William Blake

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.

Robert Herrick was another loyalist, cavalier poet. However, he was not a soldier, but a clergyman who lost his position as vicar of Dean Prior during Cromwell’s time because of his royalist sympathies. Herrick wrote about several women in his poems, but they may have been imaginary or composites of his crushes because he never married.

To Anthea Who May Command Him Any Thing
Delight in Disorder
To Electra
To Sylvia, To Wed
Upon Julia’s Clothes

I think the last is my favorite. I rather like Herrick’s romantic imagination, gathering rosebuds, even though eventually he failed to take his own advice and did forever tarry in the matter of marriage.

And another strike against the whole “carpe diem” philosophy is that while this scene from the movie Dead Poets Society is wonderful and inspiring, Seize the Day didn’t turn out too well for young Mr. Perry in the movie. Perhaps there’s something more to life than gathering rosebuds and enjoying one’s youth, however lovely the idea.

A.E. Houseman, b.1859.
Loveliest of trees, the cherry

Robert Frost, b.1874.
The Door in the Dark
Fire and Ice
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Some of the poetry of these two poets may be among your ten favorite classic poems. Have you sent in your list yet? Today is the last day to email the titles of your top ten classic poems to sherryDOTearlyATgmailDOTcom. I’ll be counting down the Top 100 Classic Poems as chosen by my readers beginning April 1, in honor of Poetry Month and in celebration of the best in poetry.