tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post8833080923693030057..comments2024-03-23T20:37:37.891-07:00Comments on First Known When Lost: How To Live, Part Twenty-Nine: Some Things Never ChangeStephen Pentzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-21476024092097921182020-07-09T21:17:56.698-07:002020-07-09T21:17:56.698-07:00Mr. Parker: I hadn't thought of this in conne...Mr. Parker: I hadn't thought of this in connection with "The Truisms," so I thank you for sharing it. It's been a while since I've visited it, so I appreciate your sharing it now. I agree that the two poems go together well.<br /><br />As for your final thought: part of me agrees with you, but another part of me says that it has ever been thus. (Although there are certainly moments when I think the world has indeed gone to Hell in a hand-basket.) I needn't tell you that the world has always been subject to fits of madness and know-nothingness among swathes of true believers. The particulars may change, but the periodic irruptions have a great deal in common. On the other hand, it has also always been the case that the true, good, and beautiful are preserved, and passed on, by a relative handful of people from generation to generation.<br /><br />You are likely familiar with Hardy's poem "Mute Opinion," which has resurfaced in my mind more than a few times in recent weeks. In the end, humanity's history is "outwrought/Not as the loud had spoken,/But as the mute had thought." Wishful thinking on my part? Whistling past the graveyard? Perhaps. But I am not changing the way I live.<br /><br />Thank you very much for stopping by again. It's good to hear from you.Stephen Pentzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-65749212365108526292020-07-08T18:36:33.609-07:002020-07-08T18:36:33.609-07:00The MacNeice "Truisms" poem brought to m...The MacNeice "Truisms" poem brought to my mind (as I'm sure it did to many others) Kipling's "The Gods of the Copybook Headings":<br /><br />As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race,<br />I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.<br />Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,<br />And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.<br /><br />We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn<br />That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:<br />But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,<br />So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.<br /><br />We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,<br />Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,<br />But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come<br />That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.<br /><br />With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,<br />They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;<br />They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;<br />So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.<br /><br />When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.<br />They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.<br />But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,<br />And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."<br /><br />On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life<br />(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)<br />Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,<br />And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."<br /><br />In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,<br />By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;<br />But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,<br />And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."<br /><br />Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew<br />And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true<br />That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four<br />And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.<br /><br />As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man<br />There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.<br />That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,<br />And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;<br /><br />And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins<br />When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,<br />As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,<br />The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return! <br /><br />There's some wisdom there, I think, but we've likely passed the point where we're able to heed it, much less even hear it.Thomas Parkerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01587426021276029142noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-6447476731303509782020-07-08T00:50:13.630-07:002020-07-08T00:50:13.630-07:00Mr. Maruskin: I'm pleased you liked the post....Mr. Maruskin: I'm pleased you liked the post. Thank you very much.<br /><br />Yes: "His eyes/are filled with friendliness" is lovely, isn't it? It took me aback when I first encountered the poem, and it still strikes me whenever I return to it.<br /><br />I'm delighted to hear you will be picking up a copy of MacCaig's collected poems. Hours and hours of pleasure await you. In my humble opinion, I suspect you will be returning to his poems over the years. He was quite prolific, so whenever I return to his poetry, I still find new gems. (He is like Hardy and Christina Rossetti in that regard, at least for me.) <br /><br />Thus, I hadn't yet read "A Good Day," so I appreciate your pointing it out. I agree with you: I have now read it, and it is wonderful. It reminds me of the observations you and I have shared about our walks, and the life of the meadows. A great deal of MacCaig's poetry is like that. (To borrow your phrase: he was always "a walker, looking.") The reference to the heron caught my attention: we have quite a few blue herons in this neck of the woods (for instance, a tall and expansive evergreen tree full of nests is along the Ship Canal about two miles away from where I live), and MacCaig captures what a delight they are. "A heron, folded round himself,/Stands in the ebb": exactly; I have seen that many a time (but, of course, I could never express it the way MacCaig does).<br /><br />As ever, thank you for visiting.Stephen Pentzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-84107603844800290022020-07-08T00:22:31.942-07:002020-07-08T00:22:31.942-07:00Danish dog: Thank you very much.
It's good ...Danish dog: Thank you very much. <br /><br />It's good to hear from you again. I'm happy to know that you are still stopping by. I greatly appreciate your long-time presence here. Take care.Stephen Pentzhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14882220887712092005noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-71456038828615736872020-07-06T07:04:11.528-07:002020-07-06T07:04:11.528-07:00Thank you. What a wonderful way to start the week...Thank you. What a wonderful way to start the week. MacCaig's "Crofter" reminded me of a number of things I've been lax about when Chap, my dog, and I take our final walk around the yard each night. "His eyes/are filled with friendliness." That's the way to see the world. I love your personal observation: "After all, I am merely an onlooker, passing through." When people ask me what I do I like to say, "I am a walker, looking." As usual, your poetic perambulations sent me exploring new paths. This morning, because of MacCaig's poem, I looked up more of his work. At The Poetry Foundation I found, "A Good Day," which made mine better. It begins with the hyphenated construction "Sun-stunned," which is an apt description for an experience of tree crown light. Wallace Stevens would have loved that. Permit me to be a librarian for a moment and "highly recommend" you look up "A Good Day" in your MacCaig collection. I will do the same, soon. I'm going to order a copy of his collected poems, today. Thanks again. Have a swell week.John Maruskinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09037643577221370572noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5010170380967519230.post-28643030863136529262020-07-05T01:31:20.671-07:002020-07-05T01:31:20.671-07:00Maybe I'm easy to please too, but I certainly ...Maybe I'm easy to please too, but I certainly enjoyed this.Danish doghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08020527943859347043noreply@blogger.com