William Shakespeare
- Algernon Charles Swinburne
Not if men's tongues and angels' all in one
Spake, might the word be said that might speak thee.
Streams, winds, woods, flowers, fields, mountains, yea, the sea,
What power is in them all to praise the sun?
His praise is this--he can be praised of none.
Man, woman, child, praise God for him; but he
Exults not to be worshiped, but to be.
He is; and, being, beholds his work well done.
All joy, all glory, all sorrow, all strength, all mirth,
Are his; without him, day were night on earth.
Time knows not his from time's own period.
All lutes, all harps, all viols, all flutes, all lyres,
Fall dumb before him ere one string suspires.
All stars are angels; but the sun is God.
Not if men's tongues and angels' all in one
Spake, might the word be said that might speak thee.
Streams, winds, woods, flowers, fields, mountains, yea, the sea,
What power is in them all to praise the sun?
His praise is this--he can be praised of none.
Man, woman, child, praise God for him; but he
Exults not to be worshiped, but to be.
He is; and, being, beholds his work well done.
All joy, all glory, all sorrow, all strength, all mirth,
Are his; without him, day were night on earth.
Time knows not his from time's own period.
All lutes, all harps, all viols, all flutes, all lyres,
Fall dumb before him ere one string suspires.
All stars are angels; but the sun is God.
posted by crystal | 11:37 PM
10 Comments:
A very beautiful poem indeed! It reminded me of one stormy day when I was driving down a steep hill with my 1964 Super 88 Oldsmobile in our city which J.C. had sold me. I saw an image of a man holding a spear and he seemed to be turning to point it at me and my heart said to my mind in so many thoughts, why would you want to hurt me.
This poem also reminded me that about 30 years or so ago while I was looking at the sun in deep thoughts. The sun seem to say in very deep thoughts, Victor, we don't need anyone cause I own this world and you simply need to work for me. The harder you work and the more good you do, the brighter I will shine. I must confess that "IT" had me going for awhile until the majority of my spiritual loving cells were convinced that our blessed sun is no match for The Only Begotten “SON” of our Heavenly Father.
I hear ya! But I must tell you in all honesty that I have not been drinking today as of yet.
As soon as I finish this comment I'm going to have a beer cause I've heard that there ain't no beer in Heaven my deer :)
God Bless,
Peace
I agree with CAS that Shakespeare rocks.
Funny that the sonnet is in the Petrarchan form and not the Shakespearean.
Hi Victor,
That's one thing I like about poetry - it reminds me of stuff :)
Hi Liam,
Hey, I was just reading about someone who works where you do - Caroline Walker Bynum. She's a medival history professor, I think. Do you know her?
I've met her. She was a professor at Columbia, but left to go to the Institute of Advanced Study at Princeton the year I got here. I highly highly highly recommend her books.
Thanks. I saw that she's written about Jesus as Mother - might look for that at the library :)
The one I would recommend to start with is Holy Feast, Holy Fast.
Thanks, Liam. I had seen this interview with her online and they talk about that book too. It sounds really interesting.
As Swinburne (in his way) and Liam say: Shakespeare rocks.
"It is said that a common farm labourer uses 500 words, and educated business man 3,000, the average novelist 5,000 and great scholars and public men 7,000. Shakespeare in his poems and plays uses 21,000, the largest vocabulary ever possessed by any member of the human race."
Interesting note: The final four words of this poem were also the last words spoken by the painter J.M.W. Turner as he died.
William,
Oh, that's interesting about the last words. There are so many strange famous last words of famous people. I think it was St. Lawrence, martyred on a grill, who said something like "Turn me over, this side is done."
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