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.
The first time I heard this, my mom read it to me! It has such a lovely nonsense about it. It's as if he wrote it particularly to invite people into the most playful and dramatic version of themselves in the reading.
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.
“They sailed away, for a year and a day”- my favorite line, as I am always ready to sail away- Thank you for this delightful diversion. Indeed, “delight begets delight”- a good reminder to pause for whimsy and delight as heaviness in work begins weigh on us.
I want to drink tea and eat treats at the turkey’s house. I want to sit and admire his startling snood and listen as he practises preaching. I want to walk up and down the hill till I forget the point of the morning. I want to sleep under his wing and dream about cornflowers and meadows. I want that turkey, that hill, that house to be where I go when the world I know has lost its meaning.
I read your gift of perspective out loud to the delight of my husband of 55 years who is experiencing the advancing and various stages of Alzheimer’s. Now we will move to reheating a glorious pastry from our local Orchard Hill Bakery and our first sip of a hot beverage. “Delight begets delight.” Thank you!
This was one of my Grandpa John's favorite poems that I read while he was losing his memory. He had a marvelous laugh! Hard not to laugh at these lines. And what a lovely collection of things you've gathered-- a poem, a pastry, a cozy drink. Just reading this brought me delight.
Oh, Pádraig, you’ve made my week This is my favorite poem for two reasons: it is such a delicious, delightful melody off the tongue and it was my gateway drug to poetry. In 10th grade my English teacher made us memorize a poem and recite it to the class. To be cheeky, I picked The Owl and the Pussy Cat, but this poem and the experience made me fall in love with poetry. I can still recite this poem and often do, 40 years later! And when I need to lift my heart, I close my eyes, and dance “by the light of the moon.”
“and hand in hand, at the edge of the sand”. When we are hand and hand, at the edge of … many wonderful, amazing, challenging and overwhelming things happen.
I can remember and recite poetry best when set to song. This poem came to me in a collection of nursery rhymes I read to my daughter as a baby and young child. The whole poem is so rhythmic; the last lines of each stanza I turned into a little song 🎵.
Thank you for bringing this lovely poem and memories of sweet times with my baby.
These are also my favourite lines. Love the image, love the memories of dancing by the light of the moon on the edge of the sand, once upon a many years ago. Blessings to you and your sweet baby, Karen!
I love the line, “They took some money and plenty of honey, wrapped up in a five pound note.” The juxtaposition between money and honey reminded me of Psalm 19: 9 &10 – “the ordinances of the Lord are true and righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb.” I conducted a funeral once for an apiary scientist and made a reference to these words from Psalm 19. His family smiled and nodded gratefully at the biblical reference which connected to their husband and father’s life work. Since then I have daily deposited a drop of honey in my tea, like money in the bank!
Ah, Pádraig, you've done it again! I too woke up this morning feeling sluggish and aware of the tasks that must be completed today. What a joy to bump into my lifelong friends, the owl and the pussy cat. This is a poem I never set out to memorize and yet it "landed" in me as a child and I find I can recite it after all these years. My brother, on the occasion of his wedding, had a composer friend create a contemporary tune for this poem, which was sung, as a surprise, to his bride. She was over the moon. My favorite line is , "Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling, Your ring? Said the Piggy, I will." Has anything more clever ever been written? And honestly, I challenge anyone to read that line and not grin with delight. I can see by other comments that there are many of us today who will have a spring in our step thanks to your offering.
"A small rising in an old sadness" really resonates. Would make a great poetry prompt in a workshop I think.
As far as the poem itself, my mom really wanted this poem to be read (in English and French) at my wedding to my husband, Charles. We refused. Neither of us speak French, we both actually chose Spanish. Having something read in a language we didn't understand felt pretentious to us both. Instead we chose Neruda. But really the reason we refused it was this line.
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"
I just could not NOT giggle when I heard the line. It gets me every time and I know it makes me silly and with the humor of a child. I love the line but I just did not trust me or me looking at my about to be husband in front of so many people we loved.
Later when I was pandemic homeschooling our three kids it was one of the poems that I assigned for memorization and sent those videos to my mom.
Rhyme as a child is how I fell in love with language. In EXACTLY the tumble around in it way you speak of, Padraigh. Now, I see my 5-year-old granddaughter tumbling around in rhythm and rhyme and words. And on it goes...
The whimsical and randomness of the poem offers is much, but I love that there is a Turkey but one who performs matrimonies. This sounds like how my 6 year old thinks, so perhaps I should start writing his words down. Or at least going with the flow more.
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.
The first time I heard this, my mom read it to me! It has such a lovely nonsense about it. It's as if he wrote it particularly to invite people into the most playful and dramatic version of themselves in the reading.
I enjoy the way in which your mom took those two lines and interpreted them her own way, very creatively original.
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.
Happy Birthday, Maggie! With best wishes for a day filled with more good surprises.
Happy Birthday Maggie! Better to be safe and celebrate this time on zoom. How blessed are your memories of a Mom reading poems to you.
“They sailed away, for a year and a day”- my favorite line, as I am always ready to sail away- Thank you for this delightful diversion. Indeed, “delight begets delight”- a good reminder to pause for whimsy and delight as heaviness in work begins weigh on us.
My favorite line as well, Veronica. May you have delightful sailing.
‘By the turkey who lives on the hill’.
I want to drink tea and eat treats at the turkey’s house. I want to sit and admire his startling snood and listen as he practises preaching. I want to walk up and down the hill till I forget the point of the morning. I want to sleep under his wing and dream about cornflowers and meadows. I want that turkey, that hill, that house to be where I go when the world I know has lost its meaning.
This is beautifully written, Estelle. I enjoyed your post more than the poem!
"his startling snood"--yes certainly. Thank you for this tiny poem of a reply
I read your gift of perspective out loud to the delight of my husband of 55 years who is experiencing the advancing and various stages of Alzheimer’s. Now we will move to reheating a glorious pastry from our local Orchard Hill Bakery and our first sip of a hot beverage. “Delight begets delight.” Thank you!
I'm going to read the poem to my mom,once she wakes.
This was one of my Grandpa John's favorite poems that I read while he was losing his memory. He had a marvelous laugh! Hard not to laugh at these lines. And what a lovely collection of things you've gathered-- a poem, a pastry, a cozy drink. Just reading this brought me delight.
Oh, Pádraig, you’ve made my week This is my favorite poem for two reasons: it is such a delicious, delightful melody off the tongue and it was my gateway drug to poetry. In 10th grade my English teacher made us memorize a poem and recite it to the class. To be cheeky, I picked The Owl and the Pussy Cat, but this poem and the experience made me fall in love with poetry. I can still recite this poem and often do, 40 years later! And when I need to lift my heart, I close my eyes, and dance “by the light of the moon.”
“and hand in hand, at the edge of the sand”. When we are hand and hand, at the edge of … many wonderful, amazing, challenging and overwhelming things happen.
“They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.”
I can remember and recite poetry best when set to song. This poem came to me in a collection of nursery rhymes I read to my daughter as a baby and young child. The whole poem is so rhythmic; the last lines of each stanza I turned into a little song 🎵.
Thank you for bringing this lovely poem and memories of sweet times with my baby.
These are also my favourite lines. Love the image, love the memories of dancing by the light of the moon on the edge of the sand, once upon a many years ago. Blessings to you and your sweet baby, Karen!
I love the line, “They took some money and plenty of honey, wrapped up in a five pound note.” The juxtaposition between money and honey reminded me of Psalm 19: 9 &10 – “the ordinances of the Lord are true and righteous altogether. More to be desired are they than gold, sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb.” I conducted a funeral once for an apiary scientist and made a reference to these words from Psalm 19. His family smiled and nodded gratefully at the biblical reference which connected to their husband and father’s life work. Since then I have daily deposited a drop of honey in my tea, like money in the bank!
Do we care that turkeys and owls have no hands? Of course not. They are conduits of the love that flows through these creatures to us.
What a wonderful story, Denny. Thank you.
Ah, Pádraig, you've done it again! I too woke up this morning feeling sluggish and aware of the tasks that must be completed today. What a joy to bump into my lifelong friends, the owl and the pussy cat. This is a poem I never set out to memorize and yet it "landed" in me as a child and I find I can recite it after all these years. My brother, on the occasion of his wedding, had a composer friend create a contemporary tune for this poem, which was sung, as a surprise, to his bride. She was over the moon. My favorite line is , "Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling, Your ring? Said the Piggy, I will." Has anything more clever ever been written? And honestly, I challenge anyone to read that line and not grin with delight. I can see by other comments that there are many of us today who will have a spring in our step thanks to your offering.
Oh Thayer! Is there any way to share that song?
Thank you for this breath of fresh air, a pause from the pain ribboning round and round our injured world.
I will now recite this runcible poem in its entirety,
Often.
Lear for keeps.
3:30pm 'tis the time to pick, spread and sup from the Crumpetty Tree.
"Love to you", sings a slumbering Kittery Kite and her Bisky Bat mama.
I love the pauses: you are you are, his nose his nose, the moon the moon—-the rhythm makes me sway and dream.
"A small rising in an old sadness" really resonates. Would make a great poetry prompt in a workshop I think.
As far as the poem itself, my mom really wanted this poem to be read (in English and French) at my wedding to my husband, Charles. We refused. Neither of us speak French, we both actually chose Spanish. Having something read in a language we didn't understand felt pretentious to us both. Instead we chose Neruda. But really the reason we refused it was this line.
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"
I just could not NOT giggle when I heard the line. It gets me every time and I know it makes me silly and with the humor of a child. I love the line but I just did not trust me or me looking at my about to be husband in front of so many people we loved.
Later when I was pandemic homeschooling our three kids it was one of the poems that I assigned for memorization and sent those videos to my mom.
Pussy said to the owl, "You elegant fowl..."
Rhyme as a child is how I fell in love with language. In EXACTLY the tumble around in it way you speak of, Padraigh. Now, I see my 5-year-old granddaughter tumbling around in rhythm and rhyme and words. And on it goes...
“So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.”
The whimsical and randomness of the poem offers is much, but I love that there is a Turkey but one who performs matrimonies. This sounds like how my 6 year old thinks, so perhaps I should start writing his words down. Or at least going with the flow more.