The Noble Nature
It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it fall and die that night --
It was the plant and flower of Light.
In small proportions we just beauties see;
And in short measures life may perfect be.
Commentary
Merry Christmas everyone :)
Guest poem sent in by Mallika
This puts into perspective some of the
misplaced energy of our times; prolonging
life - on what terms? To pull the plug
eventually?
The Hippocratic oath was to reduce
suffering, not to play god.
BJ was a contemporary of Shakespeare
and Inigo Jones; he was Poet Laureate
both unofficially and by appointment.
More on BJ at:
http://www.excite.com/entertainment/books_and_literature/authors/last_name_a_z/j/authors_jo/jonson_ben/
— Mallika
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From the Wondering Minstrels mailing list, 1999–2008.
Andrea Prigot · 20 December 2001
I first encountered this lovely poem in a collection of speeches by Robertson Davies, “The Merry Heart.” This was the poem I chose to include in a condolence note to the parents of a 28 year old man killed on September 11th.
Andrea Prigot
CCamp1708 · 26 November 2003
This poem sustained me through a difficult time and was an inspiration to never forget the gift of life.