Wednesday With Words: Poetry of Sound and Feeling

I was reading Edgar Allan Poe's poem "The Bells" to the boys at teatime today and it made me think of the different reasons we love different poems. We enjoy poetry very simply here --no analysis or picking apart, just reading and enjoyment. I'm sure we'll engage in some analysis later on, perhaps in high school, but for now we're laying a foundation of pure pleasure in the words, the sounds, the meanings, the feelings. "The Bells" is one of those poems where the sound of the words sweeps you along and evokes emotion, from the cheerful tinkling of the silver sledge bells at the beginning of the poem to the desperate, frenzied tolling of the iron bells at the end. This kind of poem almost reads itself... it pulls expression from you as you read it.

And that brings me to one of my favourite poems of this kind: "Tarantella" by Hilaire Belloc. It's not quite as heavy as Poe's "Bells," despite the "feet of the dead" and "Doom" at the end.

Tarantella

Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the spreading
Of the straw for a bedding,
And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,
And the wine that tasted of the tar,
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
(Under the dark of the vine verandah)?
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
Who hadn't got a penny,
And who weren't paying any,
And the hammer at the doors and the Din?
And the Hip! Hop! Hap!
Of the clap
Of the hands to the twirl and the swirl
Of the girl gone chancing,
Glancing,
Dancing,
Backing and advancing,
Snapping of the clapper to the spin
Out and in--
And the Ting, Tong, Tang of the Guitar!
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?

Never more,
Miranda,
Never more.
Only the high peaks hoar:
And Aragon a torrent at the door.
No sound
In the walls of the Halls where falls
The tread
Of the feet of the dead to the ground.
No sound:
Only the boom
Of the far Waterfall like Doom.

Did you read it aloud? Could you feel the din and whirl of the dance, and then the abrupt slowdown as you understood the depth of the silence and desolation of the Inn now?

Having children and reading poetry aloud to them has increased my enjoyment so much. I would never have glanced at this one twice back in the days when I only read poetry silently to myself. Some poems are meant to be read aloud, and you only understand their appeal when you do.

Do you have any examples of poems that are best read aloud? I'd love to hear them!

Wednesday with Words: Hannah Coulter

It is difficult to read whole books, these days. I have been snatching moments while nursing. There is a book on the windowsill in my bathroom. My library basket is full of books I want to read, but will probably not get to right now. I feel like this last month or so since baby AJ has learned to crawl has been the most overwhelmingly busy time I've had since I became a mother. Meanwhile, I have joined a book club. I really could not resist, you see. We are reading Hannah Coulter, by Wendell Berry.

I have made it through the first five chapters so far. Thankfully this is one book that is best read slowly anyway.

"This is the story of my life, that while I lived it weighed upon me and pressed against me and filled all my senses to overflowing and now is like a dream dreamed. So close to the end now, what do I look forward to? 'Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.' Some morning, I pray, I'll have the good happiness of 'the man who woke up dead,' who Burley Coulter used to tell about.
This is my story, my giving of thanks." (Hannah Coulter, p. 5)

I think Hannah Coulter has the heart of wisdom of Psalm 90:

"So teach us to number our days

that we may get a heart of wisdom."

Another quote that provoked meditation in me as a mother and the educator of my children was Hannah speaking of her grandmam:

"She shaped my life, without of course knowing what my life would be. She taught me many things I was going to need to know, without either of us knowing I would need to know them. She made the connections that made my life, as you will see." (Hannah Coulter, p. 11)

I know that God knows the future of my children. That He is using me in just such a role is exciting, frightening, and humbling, all at the same time. But I trust He knows what He's doing, even if I don't.

What have you been reading?

Wednesday with Words: Honey for a Child's Heart

"Children may learn to appreciate poetry more than adults do because they are free to let it be what it is and not demand more of it."

-Gladys Hunt, p. 63, Honey for a Child's Heart

Wednesday with Words: The Power of Habit

I have a ridiculous number of books on the go right now, too many, really. Three in the bathroom, three beside my bed, a few more in the living room. Given the nature of life with three little children, I read snatches from each when I have a chance, making steady but very slow progress. They are all wonderful books...I really can't drop any of them. I suppose that should be a lesson to me about starting books when others aren't finished yet.

My quote for Wednesdays with Words  is from a book by Charles Cooke called Playing the Piano for Pleasure. I stumbled across this book at my library, and it is an absolute delight. The preface to the original edition (1941) begins: "This book is frankly intended as inspirational. In it I have tried to communicate my indelible enthusiasm for music-- in particular for the infinitely varied music that can be drawn from that noble, self-sufficient instrument, the piano." I feel this captures both the tone and the purpose of the book. If you play the piano as a hobby, or you used to play and would like to again, you will very likely find this book of great practical help. (I should mention that the focus is on Classical music.)

In his chapter titled "The Pleasant Necessity of Practicing," Cooke writes:

"Habit is a miraculous thing. To me it is more miraculous than nuclear radiation. From now on we are going to be working closely with Habit, piano playing being a complex of mental and physical habits. Therefore it behooves us to form right habits all along the line, and having formed them, to make them so intensely ours that they function unconsciously. When you substitute a good habit for a bad one, or when you decide to acquire a habit where none existed before, the new habit must function at first, for a little while, from power supplied by you. This is the stage where we have to make a strong conscious effort, even to the extent of a sensation of spiritual pain. But in a surprisingly short time the habit begins to take over the task of supplying power; it begins to develop its own momentum; and finally we get a sensation of spiritual pain if we don't exercise the habit....Hamlet, reasoning with his mother on the topic of dropping a bad habit and substituting a good one, said: 'For use almost can change the stamp of nature.' As far as piano playing is concerned, I take the liberty of differing with the Bard; I maintain that the word 'almost' could be omitted...Every day of our life, from now on, we will see proof that Habit is miraculous."

 Of course, I thought of Charlotte Mason and "Habit is ten natures" when I read this.

Click through to see what others are reading today!

Wednesday with Words: The Myth of Ability

I just started reading The Myth of Ability: Nurturing Mathematical Talent in Every Child by John Mighton. The introduction started with a parable of education, and I thought I'd share it because it reminds me of several things I've been reading recently, both in Charlotte Mason's 20 Principles and in The Spark by Kristine Barnett.

"Imagine a school where the following ritual is observed. At the end of the year, after several days of coaching and preparation, the children are led to a cafeteria where tables have been set with plates of food, one for each child. A government official has inspected the plates; for a given grade each plate holds exactly the same foods, in the same proportions, at the same temperatures... Afterwards, the children are given a battery of tests to determine how well they are digesting their food.

"Now imagine that only those children judged to be superior eaters are allowed to eat a full and balanced diet at school the following year. The teachers at the school, though well-meaning, believe only a few children are born with the capacity to digest food properly; the rest, depending on what kind of stomach they've inherited, can eat only one or two kinds of food, and even then only in small quantities. When challenged to defend this belief, the teachers point to the vast number of weak and unhealthy students at the school: even those singled out for special attention continue to complain of stomach disorders when placed on restricted diets.

"One day people will look back on our present system of education as only slightly more rational or humane than this..." 

Mighton then focuses his attention on a solution for the state of math education in the school system. I am hoping it will be helpful for me as a homeschooler as well...




Sharing with Wednesdays with Words today. Click through to see what other people are reading this week!

Wednesday with Words: The Robin

I've been thinking since last week that somewhere in my house I have a book of poetry by Emily Dickinson. The day after reading Emily at one of our poetry teatimes, I found SA (5) hunting through our children's poetry anthology for the "one by Emily" ("A bird came down the walk," of course.) So today I buckled down and searched until I found it: Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson. I think he will be pleased when I pull it out for tomorrow's teatime.

Since March has begun, and I've just recently begun seeing more robins (though none at my house yet, sadly), this poem seems suitable for today.

XLIV

THE ROBIN

The Robin is the One
That interrupt the Morn
With hurried—few—express Reports
When March is scarcely on—

The Robin is the One
That overflow the Noon
With her cherubic quantity—
An April but begun—

The Robin is the One
That speechless from her Nest
Submit that Home—and Certainty
And Sanctity, are best


Sharing with Wednesdays with Words...click through to see what other people are reading!

This post has been edited to remove my thoughts on the poem...I thought again and didn't want to spoil it for you all.

Wednesday with Words: George Herbert

Today is our 9th wedding anniversary, and I didn't remember it at all until just now (9:15 PM). (Don't worry, we are still happily married, despite the oversight!) I opened my favourite poetry anthology at random, and there was George Herbert's "The Call," which was sung at our wedding. So today for Wednesday with Words, I'd like to share that poem with you.

The Call

Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life:

Such a Way, as gives us breath: 

Such a Truth as ends all strife:

Such a Life, as killeth death.

Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength:

Such a Light, as shows a feast:

Such a Feast, as mends in length:

Such a Strength, as makes his guest.

Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart:

Such a Joy, as none can move:

Such a Love, as none can part: 

Such a Heart, as joyes in love.

If you'd like to hear it sung, here is a beautiful version of the Vaughan Williams arrangement.

Wednesday With Words: Quotes from Charlotte Mason

I've been reading the introduction to Charlotte Mason's A Philosophy of Education (volume 6 of her Original Home Schooling Series) for our next local Charlotte Mason meeting.

But the people themselves begin to understand and to clamour for an education which shall qualify their children for life rather than for earning a living. As a matter of fact, it is the man who has read and thought on many subjects who is, with the necessary training, the most capable whether in handling tools, drawing plans, or keeping books. The more of a person we succeed in making a child, the better will he both fulfil his own life and serve society. (p. 3)

We fail to recognize that as the body requires wholesome food and cannot nourish itself upon any substance so the mind too requires meat after its kind. If the War taught nothing else it taught us that men are spirits, that the spirit, mind, of a man is more than his flesh, that his spirit is the man, that for the thoughts of his heart he gives the breath of his body. As a consequence of this recognition of our spiritual nature, the lesson for us at the moment is that the great thoughts, great events, great considerations, which form the background of our national thought, shall be the content of the education we pass on. (p. 5)

Linking up with Wednesdays with Words at Ordo Amoris.