Consecration

It’s taken me awhile to post again, but New Year and engaging in the 12 Pubs of Christmas are ample excuses for the lateness of my posting. Before I delve into this post’s work, I feel I should mention that this is the second anniversary of the blog. I never imagined I could actually find time, energy, and sufficient material to stick with a semi-regular(ish…) blog regarding the greatest of all subjects. I would say props to me, but I feel a more consistent posting schedule would have earned me props, not irregular posts when the mood over takes me. Anyway, thanks to all those who have read the dribs and drabs, it’s always a good feeling to know someone has taken the time actually to read one’s writing.

To carry on with the Australian theme, which began in the last post, I figured I would go with this poem by Robert D Fitzgerald, an Australian poet from the 20s and so on. I had heard his name before, but never read his poetry until my uni library was getting rid of a first edition of his first poetry collection, To Meet the Sun. Anyway, I picked it up because I loved the title, which comes from the Consecration. I would link to the poem but there seems to be nowhere I can find it online, which poses some problems.

Anyway, the poem is a nice little sonnet. The poem is, essentially, about relinquishing the struggle for greatness, “No longer any looking wistfully/ At great deeds in the noonlight shining clear.” It is quite a pleasant poem, though, perhaps, not the best of all sonnets one has ever read. It is in the last four lines, though, that the poem really sings, as is so often the case in sonnets (I always forget what the four lines are called – they have some kind of special name where they can be used to invert the poem. Alas, my knowledge of poetic techniques fails me). The lines read:

“I go to meet the sun with singing lips:

I leave them talking of their engine rooms;

I leave the market places and the streets

And even the quay-side thronged with magic ships.”

These four lines really catch the whole poem. Fitzgerald consecrates himself, to the sun and life, beyond “Their banner of Achievement” to meet the sun instead. To give up the magic ships, and the troubles of modern life and the struggle for greatness, and, instead, to live.

It is, I must admit, far from the best sonnet one will ever see in one’s life, and, indeed, is not even Fitzgerald’s best sonnet. But I enjoy the sentiment of it, and I adore the line “I go to meet the sun.” It is one of the most beautiful descriptions I have read, and inspires one to look out to the sunny (and very muggy, here in Sydney) world, and reach beyond all the travails.

I think this is a good time to draw to a close, before I continue to ramble and rave. I rather enjoy this poem, and the images it paints. A copy is pretty much impossible to find, but I encourage all to read the poem, and indulge in some nice 1920s modernist sonnets.

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