I am trying to be the sort of person who likes poetry, and picking some of the poems off my bookshelves. If I’m honest, it hasn’t been an enormous success yet – though I did enjoy some of the Yeats I read, and felt pretty unenthusiastic about quite a lot of it.
One of the poems I’ve been keen to try is The Land by Sackville-West – a book-length poem from 1926. It is perhaps best remembered now, at least to the non-poetry read fraternity, for Virginia Woolf’s teasing of it in Orlando. In that novel, published a couple of years later and inspired by Vita Sackville-West, Orlando spends years writing a long poem called The Oak Tree that is later lampooned by a noted Elizabethan critic.
So that is quite a starting point for trying The Land! And I can see why it might be lampooned. It’s essentially a rustic and atavistic take on nature, filled with farmers doing ancient things with scythes etc. etc. I’m going to be honest, most of it didn’t really work for me. That ‘poetic shepherd’ genre always feels a bit improbable and fey to me. BUT I am glad I read it for this small section alone, which I really liked.
Long story short – I don’t think I’m the right audience for The Land, but I love two particular pages. So, if you’re like me – here, I’m saving you some time and just sharing this bit, on comparing poets and artisans.
The poet like the artisan
Works lonely with his tools; picks up each one,
Blunt mallet knowing, and the quick thin blade,
And plane that travels when the hewing’s done;
Rejects, and chooses; scores a fresh faint line;
Sharpens, intent upon his chiselling;
Bends lower to examine his design,
If it be truly made,
And brings perfection to so slight a thing.
But in the shadows of his working-place,
Dust-moted, dim,
Among the chips and lumber of his trade,
Lifts never his bowed head, a breathing-space
To look upon the world beyond the sill,
The world framed small, in distance, for to him
The world and all its weight are in his will.
Yet in the ecstasy of his rapt mood
There’s no retreat his spirit cannot fill,
No distant leagues, no present, and no past,
No essence that his need may not distil,
All pressed into his service, but he knows
Only the immediate care, if that be good;
The little focus that his words enclose;
As the poor joiner, working at his wood,
Knew not the tree from which the planks were taken,
Knew not the glade from which the trunk was brought,
Knew not the soil in which the roots were fast,
Nor by what centuries of gales the boughs were shaken,
But holds them all beneath his hands at last.
I find longer poems to be more difficult to really access (except The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.)
May I suggest the very short poems of Sara Teasdale, whose work I learned about through Nicholson Baker’s novel The Anthologist. She’s an unknown who deserves to be slightly more known.
Thanks for the recommendation!
An example:
Barter
Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children’s faces looking up
Holding wonder like a cup.
Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit’s still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.
Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.
Sara Teasdale
Oh… that’s lovely!
It is a lovely poem, though I totally disagree with the sentiment! Years of strife for a breath of ecstasy?? No thanks!
I am curious… why are you “trying to be the sort of person who likes poetry”?
Because people who do seem to get such profound joy from it!
I share that feeling that I should like poetry and once or twice a year pick up some to prove my resolution. It’s yet to inspire a life long love but it’s always been interesting. Have you tried anything from outside the English language world? That’s where I’ve found the most engaging pieces. My greatest successes have been Anne Carson’s translations of Sappho, poems from Arab Andalusia, and quite a bit of Russian poetry (though they tested my patience for reading about black earth and wheat). A noble quest however you approach it!
I did like a collection by Wislawa Szymborksa (not in Polish, unsurprisingly!)
Fey indeed!
If that’s the best;
Thank God I don’t
Have to read the rest….
:D
I haven’t read this, but I have read Sackville-West’s The Garden, another book-length poem, and I remember it being absolutely tortuous! I can’t even think why I picked it up; probably just because it was one of the only books of hers my university library had. What poets and collections have you liked? Poetry is SO subjective, but if I had a sense of your taste I could try to recommend some.
She is such a good novelist that I’ll probably stick there :D
Tbh, I don’t think I’ve ever found poetry that I really love. NOthing is springing to mind…
I like poetry a lot but am picky about it – the denser stuff often looses me, and I prefer poems I can respond to immediately. I do own The Land but have never been in the right frame of mind for it – if poetry is hard work, like any book, it’s not going to be a good experience. Maybe pick some you can get into straight away?
Yes, it’s hard to know where to begin…
I like poetry (I used to write it), but book length poems… no thank you. Way too hard for my simple mind, I’m afraid.
Interesting, I find them easier to engage with because I don’t have to worry that it’s over before I’ve got to grips with it!
I suggest you don’t dive in at the deep end – try some popular anthologies to see what sort of poems, and poets, you like, and take it from there.
Poetry is like music – there are many types, and different people respond to different things.
Good idea. Thanks!
I have read The Land, YEARS ago, and remember just working my way through it doggedly. I’m not vg with poetry either. I like: Donne, some Herbert, John Hegley, Attila the Stockbroker (yes, some are rude, but many very affecting ones, esp read live), Wendy Cope, that other chap who I think Kaggsy likes but I can’t remember his name, Benjamin Zephaniah and Carol Ann Duffy – I recommend The World’s Wife by the latter. So I can see it’s less lyrical stuff and more humour and issues, but I think that’s fine, too.
thanks!