Souls And Rain-Drops

Sidney Lanier

 Light rain-drops fall and wrinkle the sea,
 Then vanish, and die utterly.
 One would not know that rain-drops fell
 If the round sea-wrinkles did not tell.

 So souls come down and wrinkle life
 And vanish in the flesh-sea strife.
 One might not know that souls had place
 Were't not for the wrinkles in life's face.

Commentary

The transience of life is a great theme – and I would like to suggest my favourite poem about it. ‘Sea-wrinkles’ have now found a place in my vocabulary.

Sidney Lanier was born at Macon, Ga., on the third of February, 1842. His earliest passion was for music. As a child he learned to play, almost without instruction, on every kind of instrument he could find. A precocious musical talent, Lanier was drawn to philosophy and Romantic poetry, but he postponed his intentions for further study to volunteer for Confederate Civil War duty. In the years that followed, Lanier worked in Georgia, Alabama and Texas as a tutor, teacher, and law clerk while writing poetry and Tiger-Lillies, his novel of the war. Towards the end of his life, Lanier suffered from a crippling case of tuberculosis that eventually killed him at the age of 39.

— Hita


The Wondering Minstrels, poem #1490 · 2 April 2004

Guest poem submitted by Hita Adwanikar

Fair use

Show 1 commentHide comments

From the Wondering Minstrels mailing list, 1999–2008.

MULLAGIRI Madhavi · 4 April 2004

Hi there!

A paragraph from the Da Vinci Code (by Dan Brown) contains reference to “wandering-minstrels” … I was enlightened a little bit more about the name of this poems group. For your ref: the passage ….

Over the next few minutes, the computer returned several more Grail references, including a text about troubadours-France’s famous wandering minstrels. Langdon knew it was no coincidence that the word minstrel and minister shared an etymological root. The troubadours were the traveling servants or “ministers” of the Church of Mary Magdalene, using music to disseminate the story of the sacred feminine among the common folk. To this day, the troubadours sang songs extolling the virtues of “our Lady”-a mysterious and beautiful woman to whom they pledged themselves forever.

An intersting book if you haven’t read it already

Cheers,
Madhavi