POETRY IN LOCKDOWN: 8

A poem for Easter Sunday

George Herbert’s ‘Easter Wings’ is a classic (perhaps the classic) Easter poem.  Herbert (1593-1633) was like John Donne & Gerard Manley Hopkins a priest-poet, though much more like Hopkins than Donne. There’s no hinterland of early erotic love poems in Herbert’s work, like the ones Donne wrote in his wild-oats years on the fringes of the royal court. As a writer Herbert saw his role as being to praise God, and to chart the ups and downs of his pursuit of a gentle, reasonable, peculiarly Anglican kind of goodness. He did so as wittily and cleverly as possible, making for an interesting and deeply felt Christian poetry that non-believers can warm to as well as believers. 

‘Easter Wings’ is typographically designed to mirror the subject. It was originally printed on its side to give the profile of a bird in flight, as seen from below (or above). 

By the way the verb “imp” in the penultimate line is a technical term in falconry, meaning to graft a new feather onto a damaged wing.

         Lord who createdst man in wealth and store
            Though foolishly he lost the same,
                Decaying more and more,
                  Till he became
                      Most Poor:
                      With thee
                  O let me rise
               As Larks, harmoniously,
             And sing this day thy victories:
         Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

         My  tender  age  in  sorrow  did  begin:
            And still with sicknesses and shame
               Thou didst so punish sin,
                  That I became
                     Most thin
                     With thee
                   Let me combine,
                 And feel this day thy victory:
            For if I imp my wing on thine,
          Affliction shall advance the flight in me