Margaritae Sorori -- William Ernest Henley

Guest poem sent in by Flavia Iacobaeus

(Poem #1206) Margaritae Sorori A late lark twitters from the quiet skies: And from the west, Where the sun, his day's work ended, Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, gray city An influence luminous and serene, A shining peace. The smoke ascends In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires Shine and are changed. In the valley Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun, Closing his benediction, Sinks, and the darkening air Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night-- Night with her train of stars And her great gift of sleep. So be my passing! My task accomplish'd and the long day done, My wages taken, and in my heart Some late lark singing, Let me be gather'd to the quiet west, The sundown splendid and serene, Death. -- William Ernest Henley

This is one image I've always loved! As clear and peaceful as Tennyson's
"Crossing the Bar". But does anyone know what the title refers to?
['margaritae' = pearl, 'sorori' = sisters. leaves me no wiser than before, i'm
afraid - martin]

Flavia

Here's what the Columbia Encyclopedia has to say about Henley;

Henley, William Ernest

   1849–1903, English poet, critic, and editor. Although crippled by
tuberculosis of the bone, he led an active, vigorous life. As editor of
several reviews successively, he introduced to the public a galaxy of
young writers, including Kipling, Wells, and Yeats. Although his verse
is noted for its bravado and spirit of defiance, his poetry could be
equally delicate and lyrical. His best-known poems include "England, My
England," and "Invictus," which concludes with the famous lines "I am the
master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul." Henley's volumes of verse
include A Book of Verses (1888), The Song of the Sword (1892), and For
England's
Sake (1900). He collaborated on four plays with Robert Louis Stevenson, with
whom he enjoyed a long friendship.

Barmaid -- William Ernest Henley

Once again, posting on Martin's behalf:

(Poem #1054) Barmaid Though, if you ask her name, she says Elise, Being plain Elizabeth, e'en let it pass, And own that, if her aspirates take their ease, She ever makes a point, in washing glass, Handling the engine, turning taps for tots, And countering change, and scorning what men say, Of posing as a dove among the pots, Nor often gives her dignity away. Her head's a work of art, and, if her eyes Be tired and ignorant, she has a waist; Cheaply the Mode she shadows; and she tries From penny novels to amend her taste; And, having mopped the zinc for certain years, And faced the gas, she fades and disappears. -- William Ernest Henley

Today's poem belongs to a fairly small, but interesting, genre of poems that
combine aspects of biography, character sketch and synecdoche and explore an
entire class of people by suitable focus on one of its members. Perhaps the
best-known writer of such poems is Edward Arlington Robinson, though there
have been several others (John Betjeman comes to mind).

'Barmaid' is an excellent example of the genre. Note that the barmaid is
wonderfully developed as an individual, Henley achieving an enviable density
of description in fourteen short lines. The opening lines set the tone right
away - "she says 'Elise', being plain Elizabeth", writes Henley, and the
sense of recognition is almost automatic - we know exactly the kind of
person he's talking about.

The progression of the poem is interesting. Having established the barmaid's
working-class background, Henley goes on to build her up as a dignified,
self-contained person, until he undercuts the description with "her eyes be
tired and ignorant". From then on, the portrait is irretrievably pathetic,
and, indeed, the next few lines merely underscore that. And then the final
couplet steps back a pace to suggest that Elise made very little impression
on the world - she "mopped the zinc for certain years" (certainly not a
phrase to suggest any great accomplishment), and then faded and disappeared.
And in doing so, she suddenly becomes as much a symbol as a person - every
barmaid, shop girl or what-have-you who has lived in grey and tired
anonymity and disappeared as silently as she appeared.

-martin

Links:

  Henley on Minstrels:
    Poem #117, 'The Rain and the Wind' (biography attached)
    Poem #221, 'Invictus'

  Some other character sketches:
    Poem #234, Edwin Arlington Robinson, 'Miniver Cheevy'
    Poem #516, Nissim Ezekiel, 'The Patriot'
    Poem #543, John Betjeman, 'Executive'
    Poem #636, Edwin Arlington Robinson, 'Aaron Stark'
    Poem #798, John Updike, 'V.B. Nimble, V.B. Quick'

Invictus -- William Ernest Henley

(Poem #221) Invictus Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud, Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find me, unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. -- William Ernest Henley

Note: The title is Latin for 'unconquerable'

This is undoubtedly Henley's most famous poem, and his most popular.
Henley work is at its best, I feel, when steeped in an atmosphere of savage
gloom, and today's poem is no exception.

'Invicitus' is sweeping; passionate; larger than life in a way that few
modern poems can get away with. It is also an oft quoted poem, lines of it
having almost passed into the language. While these are invariably the ones
that involve hurling defiance into the teeth of the storm, note that the
poem itself hinges just as strongly on the 'storm' itself. It is the tension
between the strongly contrastive elements that raises 'Invicitus' from a
series of platitudes to a great poem.

m.

Biography: See poem #117

Notes:

 But what inspired "Invictus" ?? At the age of 12 Henley became a victim of
 tuberculosis of the bone. In spite of it all, in 1867 he successfully
 passed the Oxford local examination as a senior student. But a hospital was
 to be Henley's University. His diseased foot, treated by crude methods, had
 to be amputated directly below the knee. Worse yet, physians announced the
 only way to save his life was to amputate the other also. Henley fought
 this with all his spirit.

 He came out with his foot and his life. He was dicharged in 1875, and was
 able to lead an active life for nearly 30 years, though he was of course a
 cripple. With an artificial foot, he suffered horribly all his life from
 his disease before it killed him at 54. "Invictus" was written from a
 hospital bed.

        -- <[broken link] http://www2.rpa.net/~jlungu/poem.htm>

Links:

<http://elnom.com/eom/invictus.html>

No comment.

The Rain and the Wind -- William Ernest Henley

It's raining on and off here, making this cheerful little poem somewhat
appropriate...

(Poem #117) The Rain and the Wind The rain and the wind, the wind and the rain -- They are with us like a disease: They worry the heart, they work the brain, As they shoulder and clutch at the shrieking pane, And savage the helpless trees. What does it profit a man to know These tattered and tumbling skies A million stately stars will show, And the ruining grace of the after-glow And the rush of the wild sunrise? Ever the rain -- the rain and the wind! Come, hunch with me over the fire, Dream of the dreams that leered and grinned, Ere the blood of the Year got chilled and thinned, And the death came on desire! -- William Ernest Henley

Henley's a somewhat recent discovery of mine, and while I don't always like
his verse, this is one of his better poems. He balances his themes nicely -
the savagery of the wind and rain, and the inadequacy of hopes and dreams,
the inability of past or future to alleviate a storm-ridden today. I also
love the rhythms of this poem, the mixture of long and short lines and the
predominantly triple metre (three syllables in a foot) giving it a tumbling,
sweeping effect that blends well with the imagery.

m.

Biography:

  b. Aug. 23, 1849, Gloucester, Gloucestershire, Eng. d. July 11, 1903,
  Woking, near London

  British poet, critic, and editor who in his journals introduced the early
  work of many of the great English writers of the 1890s.

  As a child Henley contracted a tubercular disease that later necessitated
  the amputation of one foot. His other leg was saved only through the skill
  and radical new methods of the surgeon Joseph Lister, whom he sought out
  in Edinburgh. Forced to stay in an infirmary in Edinburgh for 20 months
  (1873-75), he began writing free-verse impressionistic poems about
  hospital life that established his poetic reputation. These were included
  in A Book of Verses (1888). Dating from the same period is his most
  popular poem, "Invictus" (1875), which concludes with the lines "I am the
  master of my fate; / I am the captain of my soul." The rest of his
  best-known work is contained in London Voluntaries (1893) and In Hospital
  (1903).

  Henley's long, close friendship with Robert Louis Stevenson began in 1874
  when he was still a patient, and Stevenson based part of the character of
  Long John Silver in Treasure Island on his crippled, hearty friend. (See
  Stevenson, Robert Louis Balfour.)

  Restored to active life, Henley earned his living as an editor, the most
  brilliant of his journals being the Scots Observer of Edinburgh, of which
  he became editor in 1889. The journal was transferred to London in 1891
  and became the National Observer. Though conservative in its political
  outlook, it was liberal in its literary taste and published the early work
  of Thomas Hardy, George Bernard Shaw, H.G. Wells, James Barrie, and
  Rudyard Kipling. As an editor and critic, Henley was remembered by young
  writers as a benevolent bully, generous in his promotion and encouragement
  of unknown talents and fierce in his attacks on unmerited reputations.
  Henley also edited, with T.F. Henderson, the centenary edition (1896-97)
  of the poems of Robert Burns, which is still valuable. His biographical
  preface, in its reaction against the tendency of earlier biographers to
  idealize Burns, exaggerates the wild side of Burns's character. His later
  years were saddened by his estrangement from Stevenson (from 1888) and by
  the death of his daughter, an only child born after 10 years of marriage.
  He was severely criticized for a "debunking" article on Stevenson written
  after Stevenson's death.

        -- EB