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Showing posts with label Poet: Robert Herrick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poet: Robert Herrick. Show all posts

To Virgins, to Make Much of Time -- Robert Herrick

Guest poem submitted by Nandini Krishnamoorthy:
(Poem #1965) To Virgins, to Make Much of Time
 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
I was surprised that Minstrels had not run this famous Herrick poem. My
first recollection of the poem is from "Dead Poets Society", Robin
Williams reading it to the students. It's one of those poems that stays
with you forever and a wonderful joy in re-discovering it.

Nandini.

Upon Julia's Clothes -- Robert Herrick

       
(Poem #777) Upon Julia's Clothes
 Whenas in silks my Julia goes
 Then, then, (methinks) how sweetly flows
 That liquefaction of her clothes.

 Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
 That brave vibration each way free;
 Oh, how that glittering taketh me!
-- Robert Herrick
A brief, yet bewitching poem from Herrick. The sensuous enchantment of his
words rivals anything by the great Romantics, but the choice of topic -
prosaic, and even a bit earthy - sets his poem apart.

thomas.

[Minstrels Links]

Poems by Robert Herrick:
Poem #332, "Delight In Disorder"
Poem #398, "The Night Piece, To Julia"
Poem #593, "The Hag"
Poem #665, "Dreams"
The second of these has a biography and links to several archives of
Herrick's poetry.

Herrick always reminds me of John Donne, both for his technical mastery and
for his outspoken emotion. Check out the following poems by the latter:
Poem #330, "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning"
Poem #384, "Song"
Poem #403, "A Lame Beggar"
Poem #465, "The Sun Rising"

[Moreover]

"Upon Julia's Clothes" is but one of several Herrick poems addressed to
Julia; others include "The Night Piece: To Julia", "On Julia's Voice", "A
Ring Presented to Julia", "Julia's Petticoat" and "The Bracelet: To Julia"
(I'm sure there are more). The "Julia" poems (not to be confused with Samuel
Daniel's "Delia" sonnets - see Poem #375 on the Minstrels for an example)
have varying forms and themes, but underlying them all is a wonderfully
romantic love.

Surprisingly, none of the usual references (Britannica, Google) have
anything to say on who this Julia might be. Would some kind member of this
list care to enlighten me?

Dreams -- Robert Herrick

       
(Poem #665) Dreams
 Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurled
 By dreams, each one, into a several world.
-- Robert Herrick
Epigrams, even more than other poems, demand an absolute perfection of
design and execution if they are to work at all. One syllable out of place,
and the entire effect is ruined... conversely, the very best examples of the
genre seem to have lasted forever, so naturally do the words, sounds and
meanings fit together. Herrick's couplet on dreams falls in the latter
category [1].

Technical mastery apart, I like epigrams (whether they be by Horace or
Hafiz, Blake or Basho) for the same reason I like haiku and other
minimalistic forms of verse - so much of the interpretation is left to the
reader; the poetry expands in the mind's eye. Again, Herrick's poem is an
excellent example thereof: the image of being "hurled" (no other word will
do) into "several worlds" by dreams offers limitless possibilities to the
reader willing to explore its depths...

thomas.

[1] As does most of his work; as I've commented before, his poetry is
possessed of "a remarkable felicity of rhythm and rhyme". See the links
section below for examples.

[Minstrels Links]

The Minstrels archive, http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels, has the
following poems by Robert Herrick:

Delight in Disorder, Poem #332
The Night Piece, to Julia, Poem #398
The Hag, Poem #593

The second poem above has a brief biography, and links to some other of his
pieces.

The Hag -- Robert Herrick

A poem for All Hallows' Eve:
(Poem #593) The Hag
      The hag is astride
      This night for to ride,
 The devil and she together;
      Through thick and through thin,
      Now out and then in,
 Though ne'er so foul be the weather.

      A thorn or a burr
      She takes for a spur,
 With a lash of a bramble she rides now;
      Through brakes and through briars,
      O'er ditches and mires,
 She follows the spirit that guides now.

      No beast for his food
      Dare now range the wood,
 But hush'd in his lair he lies lurking;
      While mischiefs, by these,
      On land and on seas,
 At noon of night are a-working.

      The storm will arise
      And trouble the skies;
 This night, and more for the wonder,
      The ghost from the tomb
      Affrighted shall come,
 Call'd out by the clap of the thunder.
-- Robert Herrick
A wonderfully spooky poem, perfect for Halloween. I first read it at the age
of seven(ish), in a children's anthology titled (rather immodestly)
'SuperBook'. More than the poem, though, I was captivated at the time by the
accompanying illustration, by Victor Ambrus... come to think of it, that was
probably the first Ambrus picture I'd ever seen. Now, though, he forms a
cherished part of my bookshelf - King Arthur, Robin Hood, the Arabian
Nights, all those gorgeous Hamlyn titles would be completely different
without Ambrus' distinctive style to further their enchantment.

Regarding the poem itself I have not much to say. Herrick's verse, as
always, is possessed of a remarkable felicity of rhythm and rhyme; the
scansion is effortless, the alliteration unobtrusive yet effective, and the
words - rather, the _sounds_ of the words - remain clear in your mind long
after the mere sense is forgotten... if, like me, you delight in technical
mastery for its own sake, you'll love this poem.

thomas.

PS. Aren't you glad we've stopped running sonnets? I know I am <grin>.

[Links]

A biography, critical assessment, and links to several archives of Herrick
poems can be found at poem #398

Here's an example of Victor Ambrus' magical art:
http://www.adelaide.ic24.net/ambrus.htm

[Halloween]

 - also called ALL HALLOWS' EVE or ALL HALLOWS' EVENING: a holy or hallowed
evening observed on October 31, the eve of All Saints' Day. In modern times,
it is the occasion for pranks and for children requesting treats or
threatening tricks.

In ancient Britain and Ireland, the Celtic festival of Samhain eve was
observed on October 31, at the end of summer. This date was also the eve of
the new year in both Celtic and Anglo-Saxon times and was the occasion for
one of the ancient fire festivals when huge bonfires were set on hilltops to
frighten away evil spirits. The date was connected with the return of herds
from pasture, and laws and land tenures were renewed. The souls of the dead
were thought to revisit their homes on this day, and the autumnal festival
acquired sinister significance, with ghosts, witches, hobgoblins, black
cats, fairies, and demons of all kinds said to be roaming about. It was the
time to placate the supernatural powers controlling the processes of nature.
In addition, Halloween was thought to be the most favourable time for
divinations concerning marriage, luck, health, and death.

        -- EB

The Night Piece, To Julia -- Robert Herrick

       
(Poem #398) The Night Piece, To Julia
 Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
  The shooting stars attend thee;
      And the elves also,
      Whose little eyes glow
  Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

 No Will-o'-th'-Wisp mis-light thee,
 Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
      But on, on thy way,
      Not making a stay,
 Since ghost there's none to affright thee.

 Let not the dark thee cumber;
 What though the moon does slumber?
      The stars of the night
      Will lend thee their light,
 Like tapers clear without number.

 Then Julia let me woo thee,
 Thus, thus to come unto me;
      And when I shall meet
      Thy silv'ry feet,
 My soul I'll pour into thee.
-- Robert Herrick
Another of those wonderfully musical poems the rhythm of which sticks in my
mind long after the words have faded. In fact, the poem as a whole is
notable not so much as a love poem, as for the wonderful way the background
is woven - the soft rhythm, the gentle images of a night punctuated by a
million living points of light, are evocative without being overdrawn.

And if someone can tell me why he wants to meet her silv'ry feet (of all
things) do write in :)

Biography and Assessment:

Herrick, Robert

  (baptized Aug. 24, 1591, London, Eng.--d. October 1674, Dean Prior,
  Devonshire), English cleric and poet, the most original of the "sons of
  Ben [Jonson]," who revived the spirit of the ancient classic lyric. He is
  best remembered for the line "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may."

  During the time that he was apprenticed to his uncle, Sir William Herrick,
  a prosperous and influential goldsmith, he cultivated the society of the
  London wits. In 1613 he went to the University of Cambridge, graduating in
  1617. He took his M.A. in 1620 and was ordained in 1623. Herrick returned
  to London for a time, keeping in touch with court society and enlarging
  his acquaintance with Ben Jonson and other writers and musicians. In 1627
  he went as a chaplain to the Duke of Buckingham on the military expedition
  to the Île de Ré to relieve La Rochelle from the French Protestants. He
  was presented with the living of Dean Prior (1629), where he remained for
  the rest of his life, except when, because of his Royalist sympathies, he
  was deprived of his post from 1646 until after the Restoration (1660).

  Herrick became well known as a poet about 1620-30; many manuscript
  commonplace books from that time contain his poems. The only book that
  Herrick published was Hesperides (1648), which included His Noble Numbers,
  a collection of poems on religious subjects with its own title page dated
  1647 but not previously printed. Hesperides contained about 1,400 poems,
  mostly very short, many of them being brief epigrams. His work appeared
  after that in miscellanies and songbooks; the 17th-century English
  composer Henry Lawes and others set some of his songs.

  Herrick wrote elegies, satires, epigrams, love songs to imaginary
  mistresses, marriage songs, complimentary verse to friends and patrons,
  and celebrations of rustic and ecclesiastical festivals. The appeal of his
  poetry lies in its truth to human sentiments and its perfection of form
  and style. Frequently light, worldy, and hedonistic, and making few
  pretensions to intellectual profundity, it yet covers a wide range of
  subjects and emotions, ranging from lyrics inspired by rural life to
  wistful evocations of life and love's evanescence and fleeting beauty.
  Herrick's lyrics are notable for their technical mastery and the interplay
  of thought, rhythm, and imagery that they display. As a poet Herrick was
  steeped in the classical tradition; he was also influenced by English
  folklore and lyrics, by Italian madrigals, by the Bible and patristic
  literature, and by contemporary English writers, notably Ben Jonson and
  Robert Burton.

        -- EB

Links:

We've run one Herrick poem on Minstrels: Delight in Disorder poem #332

For a larger selection of his works, see two of my favourite poetry sites:
  http://www.library.utoronto.ca/utel/rp/authors/herrick.html
  [broken link] http://geocities.com/~spanoudi/poems/poem-gh.html

- martin

Delight In Disorder -- Robert Herrick

Guest poem sent in by Jennie Godden
(Poem #332) Delight In Disorder
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness :
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction :
An erring lace which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher :
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbons to flow confusedly :
A winning wave (deserving note)
In the tempestuous petticoat :
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility :
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.
-- Robert Herrick
This has always been one of my favourites. I could talk about its beauty,
or that its one of the most sensual poems I know, but I think I really like
it because it makes a perfect excuse for slightly untidy people like me!

Jennie