Happy Easter, Happy National Poetry Month!

(photo http://www.flickr.com/photos/esqenzo/1665121349/in/photostream/ by Jaypeg21)

It's Easter weekend and National Poetry Month, no better time to celebrate and read the poetry of George Herbert. Herbert, a British poet in the 17th century, was also a priest. He is known as one of the metaphysical poets, who wrote about theories of existence and knowledge. As a priest, Herbert applied Christian themes to his theories and is known as a poet who used metaphor skillfully. His poetry typographically often creates shapes, as in his famous "Easter Wings."

Easter Wings

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poore:
With thee
Oh let me rise
As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in sorrow did beginne:
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou didst so punish sinne,
That I became
Most thinne.
With thee
Let me combine
And feel this day thy victorie:
For, if I imp my wing on thine
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.
—-George Herbert, Easter Wings from The Temple (1633)

(Portrait of George Herbert (poet) by Robert White in 1674. From National Portrait Gallery (UK))

To see how the printed version appeared and fully appreciate the "wings" imagery, click here.

Happy Easter!

National Poetry Month--Good Friday

(photo by Dennis Tang www.flickr.com/photos/tangysd/3348460359/)

George Herbert was born April 3, 1593, in Wales. He was a scholar, an orator, a politician, and a priest in the Church of England, but it is for his poetry that he is remembered today. Influenced by John Donne, his poems use unusual shapes and unique comparisons to make their statements.

REDEMPTION

by George Herbert

Having been tenant long to a rich Lord,
Not thriving, I resolved to be bold,
And make a suit unto him, to afford
A new small-rented lease, and cancel th’ old.

In heaven at his manor I him sought:
They told me there, that he was lately gone
About some land, which he had dearly bought
Long since on earth, to take possession.

I straight return’d, and knowing his great birth,
Sought him accordingly in great resorts;
In cities, theaters, gardens, parks, and courts:
At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth

Of thieves and murderers: there I him espied,
Who straight, Your suit is granted, said, and died.




Here are the final lines from John Masefield's dramatic poem, "Good Friday":

MADMAN. Only a penny, a penny,
Lilies brighter than any,
Lilies whiter than snow. [He feels that he is
alone.]
Beautiful lilies grow
Wherever the truth so sweet
Has trodden with bloody feet,
Has stood with a bloody brow.
Friend, it is over now,
The passion, the sweat, the pains,
Only the truth remains. [He lays lilies down.]
I cannot see what others see;
Wisdom alone is kind to me,
Wisdom that comes from Agony.
Wisdom that lives in the pure skies,
The untouched star, the spirit's eyes;
O Beauty, touch me, make me wise.
CURTAIN.

More Good Friday poems are found at As Iron Sharpens Iron. Do you know of others? If so, send them my way.