Every year at my son’s school, they celebrate poetry in a wonderful way. Children in grades 4-8 learn fourteen or more lines of poetry and recite it in front of their class. Some children are chosen as finalists and they work their way through semi-finals until a handful of kids recite in front of the entire school for the Harold W. Wise Declamation Contest. In this way, the children of Brookwood School are exposed to an enormous canon of poetry every year, all of which is given the weight of enthusiasm and import in the careful way children recite these words.
Peter came home from school today with these three poems in his head and shared them with me, as Ben, Charlotte and Stowe had shared them with him this week. Now they are yours to enjoy. We wish these passionate poets luck as they recite before the whole school next week.
Bone
By Mary Oliver
1.
Understand, I am always trying to figure out
what the soul is,
and where hidden,
and what shape
and so, last week,
when I found on the beach
the ear bone
of a pilot whale that may have died
hundreds of years ago, I thought
maybe I was close
to discovering something
for the ear bone
2.
is the portion that lasts longest
in any of us, man or whale; shaped
like a squat spoon
with a pink scoop where
once, in the lively swimmer’s head,
it joined its two sisters
in the house of hearing,
it was only
two inches long
and thought: the soul
might be like this
so hard, so necessary
3.
yet almost nothing.
Beside me
the gray sea
was opening and shutting its wave-doors,
unfolding over and over
its time-ridiculing roar;
I looked but I couldn’t see anything
through its dark-knit glare;
yet don’t we all know, the golden sand
is there at the bottom,
though our eyes have never seen it,
nor can our hands ever catch it
4.
lest we would sift it down
into fractions, and facts
certainties
and what the soul is, also
I believe I will never quite know.
Though I play at the edges of knowing,
truly I know
our part is not knowing,
but looking, and touching, and loving,
which is the way I walked on,
softly,
through the pale-pink morning light.
from Why I Wake Early (2004)
Goblin Feet
by J.R.R. Tolkien
I am off down the road
Where the fairy laterns glowed
And the little pretty flitter-mice are flying
A slender band of gray
It runs creepily away
And the hedges and the grasses are a-sighing.
The air is full of wings,
And of blundery beetle-things
That warn you with their whirring and their humming.
O! I hear the tiny horns
Of enchanted leprechauns
And the padded feet of many gnomes a-coming!
O! the lights! O! the gleams! O! the little twinkly sounds!
O! the rustle of their noiseless little robes!
O! the echo of their feet-of their happy little feet!
O! the swinging lamps in the starlit globes.
I must follow in their train
Down the crooked fairy lane
Where the coney-rabbits long ago have gone,
And where silvery they sing
In a moving moonlit ring
All a twinkle with the jewels they have on.
They are fading round the turn
Where the glowworms palely burn
And the echo of their padding feet is dying!
O! it’s knocking at my heart-
Let me go! O! let me start!
For the little magic hours are all a-flying.
O! the warmth! O! the hum! O! the colors in the dark!
O! the gauzy wings of golden honey-flies!
O! the music of their feet-of their dancing goblin feet!
O! the magic O! the sorrow when it dies.
The Naming of Cats
by T.S. Eliot
The naming of cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m mad as a hatter
When I tell you a cat must have three
different names.
First of all, there’s the name
that the family use daily,
Such as Victor, or Jonathan,
George or Bill Bailey–
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names
if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen,
some for the dames;
Such as Plato, Admetus,
Electra, Demeter–
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you,
a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that is peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he
keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers,
or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind,
I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quazo or Coripat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellyrum–
Names that never belong
to more than one cat.
But above and beyond
there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you will never guess;
The name
that no human research can discover–
But The Cat Himself Knows,
and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought,
of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.