tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post778560103950168458..comments2024-03-23T20:37:37.891-07:00Comments on First Known When Lost: Stepping StonesStephen Pentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-80507182715182700012014-02-03T12:36:17.968-08:002014-02-03T12:36:17.968-08:00Susan: Yes, "The Moor" is a marvel, isn&...Susan: Yes, "The Moor" is a marvel, isn't it? It is the sort of poem that keeps me returning to Thomas, although his vision can be bleak (and grumpy) at times. At some point he comes upon the sorts of moments that you refer to in the final lines, and all seems redeemed.<br /><br />As always, thank you very much for visiting, and for your thoughts.Stephen Pentzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-59818203075824438422014-02-02T17:27:47.807-08:002014-02-02T17:27:47.807-08:00Stepping stones indeed.
The end of "The Moor&...Stepping stones indeed.<br />The end of "The Moor" is unexpected & breath-taking. I have felt that, walking outdoors, but could never have articulated it.<br />SusanAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-10532883375147059552014-02-01T20:16:29.339-08:002014-02-01T20:16:29.339-08:00Eamonn: Happy New Year to you as well. It's v...Eamonn: Happy New Year to you as well. It's very nice to hear from you again.<br /><br />I'm ashamed to say I hadn't known of George Butterworth. As I remarked in a recent comment, I am fortunate to have a number of readers (you among them) who are extremely knowledgeable about song settings of poems, and who have introduced me (ignorant on these matters) to a whole new world.<br /><br />And Butterworth's life is heart-rending too, isn't it? Yet another life of promise lost in that war! I am going to delve into his music and life further. I now find that he and Ralph Vaughan Williams (whose music I love) were close friends. As I type this, I am listening to "The Banks of Green Willow," which I have just discovered, thanks to you.<br /><br />And thank you for the Donne poem, which is also new to me: perfect.<br /><br />Yes, I'm very grateful for Ultra Monk's contribution of "The Moor" as well. It took me by surprise, and makes me want to head off in Thomas's direction.<br /><br />Well, this series of comments has certainly shown that one thing leads to another!<br /><br />As always, thank you very much for stopping by.Stephen Pentzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-26567649864133836942014-02-01T11:57:47.710-08:002014-02-01T11:57:47.710-08:00Dear Stephen,
Thank you for this and your last p...Dear Stephen, <br /><br />Thank you for this and your last post on Housman. Heart-rending indeed. <br /><br />I stopped and went to listen to Butterworth's setting of <i>When the Lad for Longing Sighs</i> (A Shropshire Lad) sung by Anthony Rolfe Johnson, whose Hyperion recording of song settings inspired by A Shropshire Lad is interspersed with Alan Bates reading the Housman. It's a gem of a recording. <br /><br /><i>Poem XX</i> had a ring about it for me, and I went looking for Donne, and found his <i>A Valediction of Weeping</i>; this the middle stanza:<br /><br /> On a round ball <br />A workeman that hath copies by, can lay<br />An Europe, Afric, and an Asia,<br />And quickly make that, which was nothing, All,<br /> So doth each teare,<br /> Which thee doth weare,<br />A globe, yea world by that impression grow,<br />Till thy tears mixt with mine doe overflow<br />This world, by waters sent from thee, my heaven dissolved so.<br /><br />And as for Ultra Monk's contribution of Thomas' <i>The Moor</i>, well, it took me somewhere I haven't been for quite a while ... <br /><br />A belated Happy New Year, and thank you for all your work here. I love that your posts serve as 'stepping stones' for so many us. <br /><br />EamonnEamonnnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-52160418877745536382014-02-01T06:41:27.450-08:002014-02-01T06:41:27.450-08:00Ultra Monk: wonderful! Thank you very much. The ...Ultra Monk: wonderful! Thank you very much. The entire poem is lovely, but I particularly like: "the mind's cession/Of its kingdom."<br /><br />And, since one poem leads to another, a couple of other poems (which you are no doubt familiar with) by Thomas come to mind: "Moorland" (which begins: "It is beautiful and still; the air rarefied/as the interior of a cathedral") and "In a Country Church" (which begins: "To one kneeling down no word came,/Only the wind's song").<br /><br />Again, thank you: I greatly appreciate the gift. Now you've got me in the mood for reading Thomas. Thank you for visiting again.Stephen Pentzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-61625306715439236202014-02-01T06:25:43.532-08:002014-02-01T06:25:43.532-08:00Fred: as I've noted before, I've hardly sc...Fred: as I've noted before, I've hardly scratched the surface in terms of what I ought to have read, but, as you say, it is surprising how one thing leads to another. As long as the memory holds up! (Knock on wood.)<br /><br />Thanks for stopping by again.Stephen Pentzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-9864428589206268502014-01-31T16:11:32.092-08:002014-01-31T16:11:32.092-08:00I thought of you this morning when I saw this poem...I thought of you this morning when I saw this poem. I dismissed the thought. Now it is this evening and the thought came back. So here is the poem. The Moor by R. S. Thomas<br /><br />It was like church to me.<br />I entered it on soft foot,<br />Breath help like a cap in the hand.<br />It was quiet.<br />What God was there made himself felt,<br />Not listened to, in clean colours<br />That brought a moistening to the eye,<br />In movement of the wind over grass.<br /><br />There were no prayers said. But stillness<br />Of the heart's passions--that was praise<br />Enough; and the mind's cession<br />Of its kingdom. I walked on,<br />Simple and poor, while the air crumbled<br />And broke on me generously as bread.Ultra Monkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17114687648173828336noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-2199829628795413722014-01-31T06:01:46.945-08:002014-01-31T06:01:46.945-08:00Stephen,
I love these journeys. I'm always s...Stephen,<br /><br />I love these journeys. I'm always surprised at where I end up, as well as surprised at the stopping points along the way. Most often they are poems I haven't thought of for many years.Fredhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10233846613173866140noreply@blogger.com