For some reason, the last couple of days my thoughts have lingered upon poetry. Perhaps it is the glorious sunshine, the endless blue skies, the lengthening of the days. I feel inspired and like the spring, I feel renewed and some of the concerns of the day drift away, at least for a moment or two.
By Allahs grace, the turning of the seasons teach us much. Spring is indeed a time of renewal where His (subhana wa ta'ala) creation is revived and with praise for him, they begin to grow. In the city, early in the morning or when the traffic lessens, bird song can be heard. Shaking off the winter woes, in the heart springs hope.
My heart yearns to be in a place where all I can see is the natural beauty of my Lords creation. How I would love to be walking in the mountains, through the forests, by the lakes and open country. Away from this crazy life where the daily commute means waking early, getting onto packed public transport, and then stuck in an office where I am teased by the glorious sunshine I can see outside.
Today, my children are off school due to a teachers strike. I would have preferred to spend the day with them then to be stuck in the office.
Anyway, back to poetry. I came across this poem because I was reading through an article on how to write poems. It is by a poet called Robert Herrick, a clergyman and poet, who was around in the 16th and 17th century. I have heard this poem but never read it. The first few lines are often quoted.
To Virgins, to Make Much of Time
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And, while ye may, go marry;
For, having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.
Robert Herrick
This poem speaks of doing things in your prime before it's too late. It advises to marry young in your prime. It speaks of time passing away. I love the way he describes it as the sun is reaching it's peak and will soon set.
Reminds me of some of the sayings of the Prophet Muhammad (sallAllahu alayhi wassalaam). He advised us to marry young, to make the most of our youth before our old age, health before we fall ill etc. Seeing that Robert Herrick was a clergyman, this is not really a surprise that there will be such thoughts behind his poetry.
And here's another in the same theme as above:
To Daffodils
Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attain'd his noon.
Stay, stay,
Until the hasting day
Has run
But to the even-song;
And, having pray'd together, we
Will go with you along.
We have short time to stay, as you,
We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay,
As you, or anything.
We die As your hours do, and dry
Away, Like to the summer's rain;
Or as the pearls of morning's dew,
Ne'er to be found again.
Robert Herrick
To end it with another poem that speaks more of my current situation at work:
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling
By Allahs grace, the turning of the seasons teach us much. Spring is indeed a time of renewal where His (subhana wa ta'ala) creation is revived and with praise for him, they begin to grow. In the city, early in the morning or when the traffic lessens, bird song can be heard. Shaking off the winter woes, in the heart springs hope.
My heart yearns to be in a place where all I can see is the natural beauty of my Lords creation. How I would love to be walking in the mountains, through the forests, by the lakes and open country. Away from this crazy life where the daily commute means waking early, getting onto packed public transport, and then stuck in an office where I am teased by the glorious sunshine I can see outside.
Today, my children are off school due to a teachers strike. I would have preferred to spend the day with them then to be stuck in the office.
Anyway, back to poetry. I came across this poem because I was reading through an article on how to write poems. It is by a poet called Robert Herrick, a clergyman and poet, who was around in the 16th and 17th century. I have heard this poem but never read it. The first few lines are often quoted.
To Virgins, to Make Much of Time
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And, while ye may, go marry;
For, having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.
Robert Herrick
This poem speaks of doing things in your prime before it's too late. It advises to marry young in your prime. It speaks of time passing away. I love the way he describes it as the sun is reaching it's peak and will soon set.
Reminds me of some of the sayings of the Prophet Muhammad (sallAllahu alayhi wassalaam). He advised us to marry young, to make the most of our youth before our old age, health before we fall ill etc. Seeing that Robert Herrick was a clergyman, this is not really a surprise that there will be such thoughts behind his poetry.
And here's another in the same theme as above:
To Daffodils
Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attain'd his noon.
Stay, stay,
Until the hasting day
Has run
But to the even-song;
And, having pray'd together, we
Will go with you along.
We have short time to stay, as you,
We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay,
As you, or anything.
We die As your hours do, and dry
Away, Like to the summer's rain;
Or as the pearls of morning's dew,
Ne'er to be found again.
Robert Herrick
To end it with another poem that speaks more of my current situation at work:
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling
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