Poem #2 The Darkling Thrush - Thomas Hardy

The Darkling Thrush

by Thomas Hardy

I leant upon a coppice gate

     When Frost was spectre-grey,

And Winter’s dregs made desolate

     The weakening eye of day.

The tangled bine-stems scored the sky

     Like strings of broken lyres,

And all mankind that haunted nigh

     Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp features seemed to be

     The Century’s corpse outleant,

His crypt the cloudy canopy,

     The wind his death-lament.

The ancient pulse of germ and birth

     Was shrunken hard and dry,

And every spirit upon earth

     Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among

     The bleak twigs overhead

In a full-hearted evensong

     Of joy illimited;

An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,

     In blast-beruffled plume,

Had chosen thus to fling his soul

     Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings

     Of such ecstatic sound

Was written on terrestrial things

     Afar or nigh around,

That I could think there trembled through

     His happy good-night air

Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew

     And I was unaware.

          The New Year approaches, and this year has not been an easy year. There have been countless deaths and suffering through wars, diseases and many other causes. Humanity has wrecked our world and destroyed the lives of our fellow creatures. If I consider the anguish the world is experiencing, there certainly is ‘little cause for carolings’.

          Yet the perfect rhymes in the final stanza of the poem creates a mood of hope and harmony; that not all is doom and gloom. If we placed our trust in humanity, then I think whatever hopes we carry into the New Year will slowly peter out and leave us disappointed by failure or deluded by pseudo-success.

          Yet we know that ‘the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people’ (Titus 2:11). We are aware of our ‘blessed Hope’ (v13) and we are waiting for it. This is a hope that transcends the promise of politicians, economists, environmentalists and self-help specialists. It is ‘the appearing of the glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ’ (v13). There is something for us to look forward to in a New Year certain to be filled with loss and hatred, symptoms of our rebellion against our Maker.

          Just as we celebrated his humble birth, we should also eagerly await his glorious return. But for now, let us ‘declare these things’ (v15). There is a Hope that is offered to everyone, let us not (like Hardy) be unaware. 

Poem #1 If- Rudyard Kipling

I have decided to start sharing poems on my blog. Poems that have I find interesting, or have provided comfort during rough patches or hope during dark moments. 

I also hope to share some thoughts about the poems and perhaps it might interest some people. Anyhow, to begin this new project, I shall share a poem that has often helped me deal with my sense of self.

If-

by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

     Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

     But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

     Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

     And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;

     If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

     And treat those two impostors just that same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

     Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

     And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

     And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

     And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

     To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

     Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

     Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

     If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

     With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

     And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

It’s nice to find a poem that turns the values that society holds upside down and challenges us to redefine the way we look at success and worth. Kipling asks us questions about our attitudes, behaviours, standards, but ultimately confronts us with our Selves.

It is a great poem I think when deciding on New Year resolutions. I think it is excellent to consider the choice Kipling presents: conformation to the ‘Will’ of this world or to our own?

But then again, I think our wills are too weak, and maybe they need submission to a greater Will; definitely not of the world, but of some Being transcending it.