This morning, Jeff reminded me of a Gerard Manley Hopkins sonnet that also fits the theme I've belabored twice already. The language is a bit difficult, but it's really delicious stuff when you take the time to digest it...
God’s Grandeur
THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
Some quick points:
First, it's a sonnet: 14 lines of iambic pentameter (10 syllables per line with a "da-DUM-da-DUM" rhythm in the syllable stresses). Also, the sonnet's structure is Petrarchan: an octave (ABBAABBA) and a sestet (CDCDCD). So, beyond the challenge inherent in the sonnet form, this structure also tells us something about the thematic relationship between the two parts of the poem. In a Petrarchan sonnet, the octave usually poses some sort of problem or dilemma, then the sestet provides an answer or solution. So, does this typical structure hold up? Indeed it does!
The octave first makes a statement: "the world is charged with the grandeur of God." Hopkins's word "charged" implies an analogy: just as an electrical device (say, a lamp) is charged with electricity, so the world is charged with God's glory. We can say a lot about this metaphor: electricity energizes what it charges, electricity is invisible and immaterial, electricity is perceived by its effects, etc; and ditto all that for God's glory in the world. (Note that it's God's glory, not God Himself, that charges the world. Otherwise we might suspect Hopkins of pantheism!) However, we oughtn't to push this too far: Hopkins doesn't want us to read his poem and start making two column comparisons. That's not how poetry works. Read the words, comprehend the analogy, and for a moment imagine a world that glows and sizzles with intangible divine energy -- your hand brushes a tree and you get a shock. Got that? Now move on.
Obviously Hopkins thinks the grandeur of God is clearly, dramatically seen in the world around us. So, what's the problem? That "men [do not] reck his rod." "Reck" has many implications: to "reck" means to take heed or warning, but we may also color this word's simple definition with the connotations of a related word, "reckon." To "reckon" something is to consider or assume it to be true: "I reckon it will rain today." To "reckon with" something is to take into account its existence and implications; to "reckon without" something is to ignore or fail to consider it. The relationship of "reckon" and "reck" should now be clear: we ought to "reck" things that could work to our detriment if "reckoned without." And what men do not reck in Hopkins's poem is "his rod" -- the rod of God: the rod that chastens (Ps 89:32), the rod that comforts (Ps. 23:4), the rod that rules (Ps. 110:2). Indeed a perilous thing to "reckon without"!
And why do men not "reck his rod"? Because we've changed the earth after our own marred image, so that it "wears man's smudge and shares man's smell." Yes, this poem has "environmentalist" implications, though that theme is not THE theme: Hopkins portrays humans as denuding their surroundings, but he views the world as a bit tougher than most Green types give it credit for! At any rate, Hopkins does point out an interesting tendency of humanity: having already defaced the image of God in ourselves, we try to erase or ignore it in the creation that surrounds us, reducing our world into manageable chunks with brute force or brutish philosophies (Rom 1:18-25). And that's the problem.
Hopkins's answer? Nature is never exhausted or "spent." Despite our efforts, we can't kill this messenger because the God that made it still sustains it: with an image straight from Genesis 1, Hopkins describes the Holy Spirit as a dove that "broods." "Brooding" describes a mother bird sitting on eggs, waiting for them to hatch (the "warm breast"). That's an apt image: this creation IS like an egg, a thing birthed but still maturing towards a greater future hatching. And in the meanwhile, this glory-charged world is guarded by the very Spirit that hovered over the face of the deep, when all was yet formless and empty.
Of course, there's more here than I've pointed out: that's the nature of good poetry. Digest, gentle reader, and meditate upon it. You'll soon learn that Hopkins's words are the BEST words to say what he meant, because he in 140 syllables tells a truth that encompasses earth and heaven and makes it close and apprehensible, yet glorious.
God’s Grandeur
THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
Some quick points:
First, it's a sonnet: 14 lines of iambic pentameter (10 syllables per line with a "da-DUM-da-DUM" rhythm in the syllable stresses). Also, the sonnet's structure is Petrarchan: an octave (ABBAABBA) and a sestet (CDCDCD). So, beyond the challenge inherent in the sonnet form, this structure also tells us something about the thematic relationship between the two parts of the poem. In a Petrarchan sonnet, the octave usually poses some sort of problem or dilemma, then the sestet provides an answer or solution. So, does this typical structure hold up? Indeed it does!
The octave first makes a statement: "the world is charged with the grandeur of God." Hopkins's word "charged" implies an analogy: just as an electrical device (say, a lamp) is charged with electricity, so the world is charged with God's glory. We can say a lot about this metaphor: electricity energizes what it charges, electricity is invisible and immaterial, electricity is perceived by its effects, etc; and ditto all that for God's glory in the world. (Note that it's God's glory, not God Himself, that charges the world. Otherwise we might suspect Hopkins of pantheism!) However, we oughtn't to push this too far: Hopkins doesn't want us to read his poem and start making two column comparisons. That's not how poetry works. Read the words, comprehend the analogy, and for a moment imagine a world that glows and sizzles with intangible divine energy -- your hand brushes a tree and you get a shock. Got that? Now move on.
Obviously Hopkins thinks the grandeur of God is clearly, dramatically seen in the world around us. So, what's the problem? That "men [do not] reck his rod." "Reck" has many implications: to "reck" means to take heed or warning, but we may also color this word's simple definition with the connotations of a related word, "reckon." To "reckon" something is to consider or assume it to be true: "I reckon it will rain today." To "reckon with" something is to take into account its existence and implications; to "reckon without" something is to ignore or fail to consider it. The relationship of "reckon" and "reck" should now be clear: we ought to "reck" things that could work to our detriment if "reckoned without." And what men do not reck in Hopkins's poem is "his rod" -- the rod of God: the rod that chastens (Ps 89:32), the rod that comforts (Ps. 23:4), the rod that rules (Ps. 110:2). Indeed a perilous thing to "reckon without"!
And why do men not "reck his rod"? Because we've changed the earth after our own marred image, so that it "wears man's smudge and shares man's smell." Yes, this poem has "environmentalist" implications, though that theme is not THE theme: Hopkins portrays humans as denuding their surroundings, but he views the world as a bit tougher than most Green types give it credit for! At any rate, Hopkins does point out an interesting tendency of humanity: having already defaced the image of God in ourselves, we try to erase or ignore it in the creation that surrounds us, reducing our world into manageable chunks with brute force or brutish philosophies (Rom 1:18-25). And that's the problem.
Hopkins's answer? Nature is never exhausted or "spent." Despite our efforts, we can't kill this messenger because the God that made it still sustains it: with an image straight from Genesis 1, Hopkins describes the Holy Spirit as a dove that "broods." "Brooding" describes a mother bird sitting on eggs, waiting for them to hatch (the "warm breast"). That's an apt image: this creation IS like an egg, a thing birthed but still maturing towards a greater future hatching. And in the meanwhile, this glory-charged world is guarded by the very Spirit that hovered over the face of the deep, when all was yet formless and empty.
Of course, there's more here than I've pointed out: that's the nature of good poetry. Digest, gentle reader, and meditate upon it. You'll soon learn that Hopkins's words are the BEST words to say what he meant, because he in 140 syllables tells a truth that encompasses earth and heaven and makes it close and apprehensible, yet glorious.
1 comment:
Brilliant reading & interpretation of this sonnet, David.
I enjoyed reading it.
Post a Comment