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Dear friends,
The other week, I had some deadlines piling up and some stresses. Nothing terrible — just the kind of day where the everything makes anything hard to focus on. It was midafternoon, a time I often find hard to plough through (I’m better working at 5:30am than I am at 3:30pm), and I knew I needed something to pick me up. Too late for coffee, and I’d already had more cups of tea in a single day than many decent people have in a month. Such as is the way of things, that pressured day also coincided with a small rising in an old sadness. Nothing terrible. Just a day. I know you have these too.
So. I took a short afternoon break and turned to a poem I’ve loved all my life — it’s one of the ones that my dad loves to recite — Edward Lear’s The Owl and the Pussy-Cat.
I The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat, They took some honey, and plenty of money, Wrapped up in a five-pound note. The Owl looked up to the stars above, And sang to a small guitar, "O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love, What a beautiful Pussy you are, You are, You are! What a beautiful Pussy you are!" II Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl! How charmingly sweet you sing! O let us be married! too long we have tarried: But what shall we do for a ring?" They sailed away, for a year and a day, To the land where the Bong-Tree grows And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood With a ring at the end of his nose, His nose, His nose, With a ring at the end of his nose. III "Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will." So they took it away, and were married next day By the Turkey who lives on the hill. They dined on mince, and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon, The moon, The moon, They danced by the light of the moon.
Edward Lear, 1870; this poem is in the public domain
There are a hundred ways to waltz into the brilliance of this poem (look at the delicious plosive p-sounds in “Wrapped up in a five-pound note”, and listen to the music in “The Owl looked up to the stars above, / And sang to a small guitar).” It is the singular combination of whimsy, nonsense, language, skill, musicality, story, and imagination that keeps me loving these lines.
Throughout school years, we learnt multiple Edward Lear poems off by heart. I can recommend The Jumblies, as well as The Dong with a Luminous Nose. Edward Lear — the youngest child to survive in a family of 21 children, mostly raised by his older sister; he earned his crust as an illustrator rather than a writer — knew tragedy and pathos. The enduring appeal of his poetry demonstrates how fantasy and escapism are much more serious enterprises than they seem.
Reading The Owl and the Pussy-Cat the other week worked. I read it aloud a few times. I marvelled at the triptumbling tonguepleasure at saying “Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling / Your ring? Said the Piggy, “I will.” I felt the spirits lift. I was transported to the shade of the Bong-Tree; and in the company of many animals, including the Piggy-wig and the nuptial-celebrating Turkey, I was charmed by the words made up by Lear. It all took about 15 minutes. I returned to the inbox, the demands, the procrastination list, the planning and had the wherewithal to make it through an afternoon.
And what is a runcible spoon? Well … who the hell knows? Edward Lear made the word up and liked it, using it in other writings (“he weareth a runcible hat”), and it’s left to the space between his delicious play and your damned brain to figure out what — for today at least — it means. (It will not surprise you to know that there are People On The Internet who have opinions about the word.)
The person I turn to for information about Edward Lear is the very fine Matt Bevis, who is a friend and a good man. He writes gorgeous essays about poetry, and I met him once when I was at a table in a restaurant, praising an essay I’d read that day. The man beside me said, “I wrote that essay.” All four of us at the table rose up to the ceiling, joyous people in a Chagall painting, and we talked all night (mince and quince). I’ve told that story before on this Substack, but it’s worth referencing again: delight begets delight. Here is an hour-long video of Matt giving an overview of Edward Lear’s life and work.
The question for this week: What’s a line you love in this poem? Let’s dance by the light of the moon of Lear’s language.
Poetry in the World
A list of events: Online; in the US (Rhinebeck, NY; Norfolk, VA; Durham, NC ); in Canada (Hamilton, Ontario); and the Scottish island of Iona
PS: I’ve got some books coming out in early 2025 — Kitchen Hymns (a volume of my own poetry) and 44 Poems on Being with Each Other (a Poetry Unbound book). You can pre-order them wherever you buy books; I’m also giving some online lectures on Sunday nights in November (see below).
October 6–11, Rhinebeck, New York, US
I’m back for a week at Omega (just two hours north of NYC) for a week of reflection on poetry, poetry prompts, and group discussions. Expect lovely people, gorgeous surroundings and food, and conversations about how poetry opens your world. Learn more here.
October 13, Online
I’ll be giving the 2024 Annual Roy Bradley Oration online — a lecture titled “Things Known and Strange” — with the Australia’s Centre for Spirituality of Care and Community. It’s free and will be at 7:30 pm Eastern Australia time, which, I think, is 4:30 am Eastern time US (where I’ll be) or 9:30 am in Ireland. If you want to go, just email secretary[@]cscc.org.au
October 26–27, Norfolk, Virginia, US
I’ll be giving some readings, a class, and a reflection, hosted by the good people of Christ & St. Luke’s Episcopal Church. Details can be found here.
October 30, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada
I’ll be giving a lecture on literature and health at the Faculty of Health Sciences at McMaster University as part of the Hooker Lecture 2024 series. Details are coming soon.
November 3, 10, 17, 24, December 1, Online
Fill your Sunday evenings with peculiarity, poetry, and ancient literature: I’ll be giving new online lectures on “Strange Stories of the Bible”. You can register here.
November 18–19 Durham, North Carolina, US
I’m giving the William Preston Few lecture at Duke University. I’ll share details here as they emerge.
March 10–15 and March 18–23 2025, Isle of Iona, Scotland
I’m holding two Poetry Unbound retreats on the gorgeous Scottish island of Iona; each retreat is the same. Both retreats are booked up, but you can get on the waiting list by contacting the folks at the St. Columba here.
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Open your world with poetry
Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!"
I hear it in my mom's voice. I haven't heard my mom's voice in fifteen months. She used to read those lines as if she were the cat. Her "You elegant fowl!" sounded like she was calling the Owl a dirty old rascal. With the next breath, she shifted to a sort of surprised delight, as though she had just discovered the Owl had a beautiful baritone...
And I can still hear her saying these lines in exactly this way, so I'm smiling and tearing up at the same time.
I awoke today feeling the weight of a melancholy weekend, not from tasks and overwhelm, but from longing to be with family. I’d planned to travel to Nashville to see two of my three young adult kids who live there but the weather canceled my plan. It is my 52nd birthday today and my parents died over ten and two years ago…but reading Edward Lear’s poem was a reunion and return to my mom’s presence. She used to recite poems to me when I was young and this one, buried but not forgotten (as I recognize it!), brought her voice and presence to me this morning. I love the rhyming. Thank you.