"Love (III)"

9 January 2024: Found myself tearing up listening to a reading of George Herbert's "Love (III)" this morning. I've been such a fan of Herbert ever since I first read him, but I don't think I've thought about this poem in years. But this morning, as I drove to an appointment, filled with anxiety and so tired already, it moved me more profoundly than ever before. "You must sit," God tells us. He loves us. That is enough.

(Grateful for the magnificant In Our Time podcast for this moment of grace.)

"Disgraceland"

28 February 2017:

Really digging this poem by Mary Karr, which popped up on the Poem of the Day podcast. An excerpt:

"Eventually, I lurched out 
to kiss the wrong mouths, get stewed, 

and sulk around. Christ always stood 
to one side with a glass of water. 
I swatted the sap away. 

When my thirst got great enough to ask, 
a clear stream welled up inside, 
some jade wave buoyed me forward, 

and I found myself upright 
in the instant, with a garden 
inside my own ribs aflourish. 

There, the arbor leafs. 
The vines push out plump grapes. 
You are loved, someone said. Take that 

and eat it."

It's like she's a 21st-century George Herbert, which is a pretty amazing feat. (For comparison, check out Herbert's "Love (III)," one of my favorite poems about feeling unworthy in the face of grace.)

"Love (III)"

Earlier today, some friends and I went to hear Robert Pinsky give a lecture/reading in Frederick--a wonderful event, full of great insights on language and poetry. One of the poems he shared was George Herbert's "Love (III)." It was the second time I'd encountered that poem twice in the past 24 hours (the other place was on a podcast), so it feels like something worth sharing. One of my favorite early grad school papers was on Herbert and I've always been a fan. Maybe I should revisit The Temple soon.

"Love (III)"

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back,
        Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack
        From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
        If I lack'd anything.

"A guest," I answer'd, "worthy to be here";
        Love said, "You shall be he."
"I, the unkind, the ungrateful? ah my dear,
        I cannot look on thee."
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
        "Who made the eyes but I?"

"Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them; let my shame
        Go where it doth deserve."
"And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?"
        "My dear, then I will serve."
"You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat."
        So I did sit and eat.