where the writers are
Toward the Light
bibliomaniac
Were life and death two sides of the same coin?
$14.65
Paperback
MillenStoneECoker.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is among the top ten of my all-time favourite poems and one I have enjoyed performing during this season. I love the fact that when centrally aligned, the words form the shape of a galleon on voyage.

 

The Journey of the Magi

(in honour of the Epiphany)

 

"A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The way was deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter."
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires gong out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices.:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we lead all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

T.S.Eliot

 

http://www.pilgrimrose.com

http://www.newevepublishing.com

Comments
2 Comment count
Comment Bubble Tip

Rich language which almost

Rich language which almost leaps off the page! I can see the silken girls bringing the sherbet. And the three trees on the low sky. I would love to see you perform this. Well, I almost can. Thanks so much for sharing this splendid piece.

Comment Bubble Tip

Many thanks for your appreciation, Dorraine

The mysteries of Eliot seem to go on forever unfolding.

Wishing you a peaceful and inspired 2010!