A proof-reading error for which I am entirely to blame left off the first stanza of the lovely poem Come peaceful, which I reproduce in full below.
I am preparing a new print edition of David Henschel's Heres and Nows which will be ready very soon, correcting this error and one or two very minor errors I have come across while preparing the Kindle edition.
Next week I shall post a little commentary on this poem. There is a way through the private tempest and to find the lights within my stormy sky which we shall talk about next time.
Meanwhile I wish you a happy and peaceful New Year.
Oh make my private tempest quiet
And all cares still:
Come peaceful to the heart’s riot
Whatever can, whoever will.
Discharge the armies of my disarray
Which turn from civil forays on my hopes
To plunder purposes heart kept, and bray
Across my sleep their trumpets of dismay.
If you – bring blessed things to please
This tyrant anguish and my martial fears: a smile
A touch, or words to knit the mind’s torn ease
With meaning’s reconciling guile.
If not – despatch that spirit by which I
Can set the eyes to search again
For lights within my stormy sky
And ears to hear some song behind its rain.
I am preparing a new print edition of David Henschel's Heres and Nows which will be ready very soon, correcting this error and one or two very minor errors I have come across while preparing the Kindle edition.
Special offer
For anyone who can provide me with a plausible story that they bought the first edition I shall send free of charge a copy of the new edition as soon as it is ready. Use the email link at the foot of the right-hand column of this web page. Don't forget to supply a delivery address!Next week I shall post a little commentary on this poem. There is a way through the private tempest and to find the lights within my stormy sky which we shall talk about next time.
Meanwhile I wish you a happy and peaceful New Year.
Come peaceful
Oh make my private tempest quiet
And all cares still:
Come peaceful to the heart’s riot
Whatever can, whoever will.
Discharge the armies of my disarray
Which turn from civil forays on my hopes
To plunder purposes heart kept, and bray
Across my sleep their trumpets of dismay.
If you – bring blessed things to please
This tyrant anguish and my martial fears: a smile
A touch, or words to knit the mind’s torn ease
With meaning’s reconciling guile.
If not – despatch that spirit by which I
Can set the eyes to search again
For lights within my stormy sky
And ears to hear some song behind its rain.
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