The Art and Craft of Poetry. Michael R. Collings
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
Anonymous greeting-card verses:
The real Christmas feeling
That warm friendly glow
Comes from greeting the people
We’re happy to know.
May the beautiful
blessings of Christmas
With its message
of hope and cheer
Be for you a joyous reminder
That our Savior
is with you all year.
For further discussion:
Ezra Pound, “In a Station of the Metro”
EXERCISE: Compare the poems in the following sets in terms of simplicity or sophistication. In each set, one of the poems will be blunter, more direct; one will makes its point less directly, through image, metaphor, and structure:
SET I:
A POISON TREE
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunnéd it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe stretched out beneath the tree.
TEACH ME TO LIVE
Teach me to live! ‘tis easier far to die;
Gently and silently to pass away,
On earth’s long night to close the heavy eye,
And waken in the realms of glorious day.
Teach me that harder lesson, how to live,
To serve Thee in the darkest paths of life;
Arm me for conflict now; fresh vigor give,
And make me more than conqueror in the strife.
Teach me to live! my daily cross to bear,
Nor murmur though I bend beneath its load.
Only be with me; let me feel Thee near;
Thy smile sheds gladness on the darkest road.
Teach me to live, and find my life in Thee;
Looking from earth and earthly things away;
Let me not falter, but untiringly
Press on, and gain new strength and power each day.
Teach me to live! with kindly words for all;
Wearing no cold, repulsive brow of gloom;
Waiting with cheerful patience, till Thy call
Summon my spirit to her heavenly home.
SET II:
GOD’S PLANS
Sometime, when all life’s lessons have been learned,
And sun and stars forever more have set,
The things which our weak judgment here have spurned,
The things o’er which we grieved with lashes wet,
Will flash before us out of life’s dark night,
As stars shine most in deeper tints of blue:
And we shall see how all God’s plans were right,
And how what seemed reproof was love most true.
And we shall see, while we frown and sigh,
God’s plans go on as best for you and me;
How, when called, he heeded not our cry,
Because his wisdom to the end could see.
And e’en as prudent parents disallow
Too much of sweet to craving boyhood,
So God, perhaps, is keeping from us now
Life’s sweetest things because it seemeth good.
And if, sometimes, commingling with life’s wine,
We find the wormwood and rebel and sink,
Be sure a wiser hand than yours or mine
Pours out this potion for our lips to drink.
And if some friend we love is living low,
Where human kisses cannot reach his face,
Oh, do not blame the loving Father so,
But bear your sorrow with obedient grace!
And you shall shortly know that lengthened breath
Is not the sweetest gift God sends his friends,
And that, sometimes, the sable pall of death
Conceals the fairest bloom his love can send.
If we could push ajar the gates of life,
And stand within and all God’s workings see,
We could interpret all this doubt and strife,
And for each mystery could find a key.
But not to-day. Then be content, poor heart;
God’s plans, like lilies pure and white, unfold.
We must not tear the close shut leaves apart—
Time will reveal the calyxes of gold.
And if, through patient toil we reach the land,
Where tired feet, with sandals loose, may rest,
When we shall clearly know and understand,
I think we will say that “God knows best.”
PIED BEAUTY
Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-color as a brinded cow,
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow and plow;
And all their trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.
SET