Monday, January 21, 2013

is there beauty yet to find?

an excerpt from

The Old Vicarage, Grantchester

(Cafe des Westens, Berlin, May 1912)
by Rupert Brooke

{read the whole poem here}

Say, do the elm-clumps greatly stand
Still guardians of that holy land?
The chestnuts shade, in reverend dream,
The yet unacademic stream?
Is dawn a secret shy and cold
Anadyomene, silver-gold?
And sunset still a golden sea
From Haslingfield to Madingley?
And after, ere the night is born,
Do hares come out about the corn?
Oh, is the water sweet and cool,
Gentle and brown, above the pool?
And laughs the immortal river still
Under the mill, under the mill?
Say, is there Beauty yet to find?
And Certainty? and Quiet kind?
Deep meadows yet, for to forget
The lies, and truths, and pain? . . . oh! yet
Stands the Church clock at ten to three?
And is there honey still for tea?
May 1912.

Rupert Brooke's well known poem about homesickness. Which has been called sappy, here and there. But captures the feeling so well, all the same, and all the more poignant for what happened after, for the poems he would later write.

Amidst so much uncertainty - honey for the tea. That ritual, that comfort.

Well, a little certainty is grand. Tea is grand. But some words for daily living, which really is so uncertain in so many ways, by Pema Chodron:

“As long as we’re caught up in always looking for certainty and happiness, rather than honoring the taste and smell and quality of exactly what is happening, as long as we’re always running away from discomfort, we’re going to be caught in a cycle of unhappiness and disappointment, and we will feel weaker and weaker. This way of seeing helps us to develop inner strength.”

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