The hours drag like a heavy anchor through the day,
like chomping through muesli without milk.
That’s the thing with verse, poetry seems to fall into one of two camps – firstly there’s the indecipherable, the works which require explanation and analysis, the work we remember from ‘O’ Levels which made the hours drag like a heavy anchor through the day, like chomping through muesli without milk. The other was lighter, it had rhyme and song – the memory could grab hold and hang on. Perhaps less dour, and like sherbet dip on the tongue, this more accessible school of verse has colour and verve, it puts a spring in the step, and like exchanging a smile with a stranger, the experience may be fleeting but it adds a memorable joy or a thoughtfulness to each of those steps.
‘The Year’ by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That’s not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that’s the burden of the year.
Whilst looking for the above I also come across the following by Ella Wheeler Wilcox which is new to me, not verse as such, but another piece of writing perfect for the last day of any year.
‘New Year: A Dialogue’
Mortal: “The night is cold, the hour is late, the world is bleak and drear;
Who is it knocking at my door?”
The New Year: “I am Good Cheer.”
Mortal: “Your voice is strange; I know you not; in shadows dark I grope.
What seek you here?”
The New Year: “Friend, let me in; my name is Hope.”
Mortal: “And mine is Failure; you but mock the life you seek to bless. Pass on.”
The New Year: “Nay, open wide the door; I am Success.”
Mortal: “But I am ill and spent with pain; too late has come your wealth. I cannot use it.”
The New Year: “Listen, friend; I am Good Health.”
Mortal: “Now, wide I fling my door. Come in, and your fair statements prove.”
The New Year: “But you must open, too, your heart, for I am Love.”
Looking back on the poems in these newsletters over the last few years, there seems to have been a pattern – the verse we have shared has pitched the Coles tent firmly in the second of those two poetry camps. And in a way these poems are the perfect reflection of our bookshop – books should be accessible and available to all, the books we offer are thoughtful, and we go about our work with a heartfelt dollop of joy. So as the year comes to a close, lift anchor and set sail – there are more adventures awaiting.
The full newsletter with links to books can be found HERE
