Linda's Literary Home

Author: Linda Sue Grimes

  • Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 37 “Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make”

    Image: Elizabeth Barrett Browning – Baylor University

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 37 “Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make”

    In sonnet 37 “Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make,” the speaker dramatically begs forgiveness for not immediately recognizing the true worth and commitment of her belovèd. 

    Introduction and Text of Sonnet 37 “Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make”

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet 37 “Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make,” creates an appealing tension; while the speaker again denigrates herself, she is, nevertheless, asking her belovèd for forgiveness. She had simply behaved as would an innocent pagan who could offer only the humblest gift to his protector.

    Sonnet 37 “Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make”

    Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make,
    Of all that strong divineness which I know
    For thine and thee, an image only so
    Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break.
    It is that distant years which did not take
    Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow,
    Have forced my swimming brain to undergo
    Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake
    Thy purity of likeness and distort
    Thy worthiest love to a worthless counterfeit:
    As if a shipwrecked Pagan, safe in port,
    His guardian sea-god to commemorate,
    Should set a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort
    And vibrant tail, within the temple gate.

    Commentary on Sonnet 37 “Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make”

    The speaker continues to denigrate herself through an abundance of humility, still finding it difficult to accept her good fortune at attracting such an illustrious love interest.

    First Quatrain:  An Emotional Appeal

    Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make,
    Of all that strong divineness which I know
    For thine and thee, an image only so
    Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break. 

    The speaker creates an emotional appeal to her belovèd, asking pardon for her soul and simultaneously again demonstrating the level of her perceived poverty of mind and spirit. 

    She implies that despite the “strong divineness,” which she now recognizes the belovèd to possess, as being “for thine and thee,” she was able to construct in her imagination only a much less exalted “image only so formed of the sand.”

    Such a hastily constructed image made of mere sand was unable to endure the test of time and therefore could not do other than “shift and break.” Of course, she does not intend her belovèd to gather from this dramatic description that his image has actually broken; she is merely once again offering proof of what her poor soul was able to grasp in its sullied state prior to their meeting.

    Second Quatrain: Distortion through Suffering

    It is that distant years which did not take
    Thy sovranty, recoiling with a blow,
    Have forced my swimming brain to undergo
    Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake 

    Again, the speaker recounts that having suffered for so many years has distorted her ability to recognize the true and the beautiful. She has needed constant tutoring in order to bring her perceptions in line with reality.  She has many times averred that she believes whole- heartedly that her belovèd possesses a genuine heart, and she believes his love for her is nothing but pure gold.

    Yet again, she must protect her heart, in case her early perceptions are false. She blames her feeble thought process on her “swimming brain.” Having been disoriented by the possibility of finding such a pure love, she could not keep that brain from entertaining thoughts of “doubt and dread.”

    First Tercet:  The Wages of Blindness

    Thy purity of likeness and distort
    Thy worthiest love to a worthless counterfeit:
    As if a shipwrecked Pagan, safe in port, 

    Thus, she now realizes that she was quite blind in “forsak[ing] / / Thy purity.” She, therefore, must ask “pardon” from having thought of his love as possibly nothing more than “a worthless counterfeit.”  The speaker separates her thought over the second quatrain and first tercet. Thus, after she remarks, “blindly to forsake,” she breaks the line to complete it in the second tercet. 

    This construction gives the object of “to forsake” more emphasis after inserting the pause created by the break.  She then begins the construction of a simileic metaphor of a “shipwrecked Pagan,” and again breaks the image over the two tercets for the same emphasis.

    Second Tercet:  Schooling the Poor Pagan

    His guardian sea-god to commemorate,
    Should set a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort
    And vibrant tail, within the temple gate.

    This poor Pagan, who is “safe in port,” constructs “a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort / And vibrant tail,” to honor the “sea-god” who has protected him. While worthy in a very humble way, such a gift would not be appropriate to place “within the temple-gate.”   But the poor Pagan would not be able to know better, until he had been schooled in the finer arts in life.

  • In the Belly of Hell

    Image:  Created by Grok inspired by the poem

    In the Belly of Hell

    “The mountains cannot judge us when we lie.” — W. H. Auden “In Time of War”

    Warm faces stream into the well of darkness.
    She lights a candle as dusk breathes deep.
    Her fruit has come to fruition in the cold
    Dank moment where hatred still burns.

    A poem dictates the next decade
    Into which she elopes with madness.
    Hearts of black villains scud her world,
    Tearing her keening into shrill scrubs.

    A basket of words for weaving in the cornfield
    Where deplorable brambles fold and mold
    On the slippery slope of mutated follies — 
    Crooked pork stands disgruntled in shadows.

    A dark stump eats at the gut of the lame.
    The enemy of time goes limp waiting
    In the insane crawl space of diverse skin.
    Her mind goes to seed in the brain-dead winter.

    Her feet move spring music straining to speak.
    Her dream falls from the ink pool into blank verse.
    A fish flops and springs off its slithering spawn
    Where morning looms in from the horizon.

    Walking in the dust she dictates the next poem
    Intensity blocking the manners of evil wishers.
    But the clocks still run and water still erodes.
    The sinews of pink muscles decay in droves.

    A warm face streams out of the well of darkness
    Her candle has extinguished the force of swill.
    The ill-gotten gain of the intruder will be spent
    In the belly of Hell, as soon as she puts up the fire.

  • Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 36 “When we met first and loved, I did not build”

    Image: Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning – 1852. Portraits painted by Thomas Buchanan Read

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 36 “When we met first and loved, I did not build”

    In sonnet 36 “When we met first and loved,” the speaker reveals her inability to fully accept the love relationship that is growing with her belovèd suitor.  She is constantly trying to prevent her heart from being broken, in case the relationship fails to reach it full potential.

    Introduction and Text of Sonnet 36 “When we met first and loved, I did not build”

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet 36 “When we met first and loved, I did not build”  from Sonnets from the Portuguese reveals the speaker’s apprehension that the first moments of a new love might prove to be illusive; thus, she refuses to believe unwaveringly in the possibility that love had arrived.

    This speaker always remains aware that she must protect her heart from disaster.  And at this point in their relationship, she knows that she could suffer a terrible broken heart if the relationship fails to flourish.

    Sonnet 36 “When we met first and loved, I did not build”

    When we met first and loved, I did not build
    Upon the event with marble. Could it mean
    To last, a love set pendulous between
    Sorrow and sorrow? Nay, I rather thrilled,
    Distrusting every light that seemed to gild
    The onward path, and feared to overlean
    A finger even. And, though I have grown serene
    And strong since then, I think that God has willed
    A still renewable fear … O love, O troth …
    Lest these enclaspèd hands should never hold,
    This mutual kiss drop down between us both
    As an unowned thing, once the lips being cold.
    And Love, be false! if he, to keep one oath,
    Must lose one joy, by his life’s star foretold.

    Commentary on Sonnet 36 “When we met first and loved, I did not build”

    The speaker again is demonstrating her inability to fully accept the love relationship that is growing with her belovèd suitor.  The speaker must protect her poor heart, which could so easily be shattered if the love relationship should end.

    First Quatrain:  Love between Sorrow

    When we met first and loved, I did not build
    Upon the event with marble. Could it mean
    To last, a love set pendulous between
    Sorrow and sorrow? Nay, I rather thrilled,

    The speaker says that when she and her belovèd first met and love began to flower, she did not readily accept that the feelings were genuine; she refused to imagine that such a relationship could become solid.  She must continue to guard her heart by holding in abeyance only the possibility of a lasting love relationship.

    She questions whether love could endure for her because of the many sorrows she has experienced.  She, instead, continued to think of only the potential of love, existing between one sorrow after the next sorrow.  She felt more confident that sorrow would remain in the offing than that love would come to rescue her out of her melancholy.

    The reader is by now quite familiar with the sadness, pain, and grief this speaker has suffered in her life and that she continues to suffer these maladies.   For this melancholy speaker to accept the balm of love remains very difficult. Her doubts and fears continue to remain more real to her than these new, most cherished feelings of love and affection.

    Second Quatrain:   Continuing Fear

    Distrusting every light that seemed to gild
    The onward path, and feared to overlean
    A finger even. And, though I have grown serene
    And strong since then, I think that God has willed

    Answering her own question in the negative, the speaker asserts that she preferred to remain skeptical of the hints that seemed to suggest a progression toward the loving relationship.   

    The speaker’s fears continue to prompt her  to hold back her heart because she continued to remains afraid that if she gave way at even a “finger[’s]” length, she would regret the loss so much that she would suffer even more than she already had done.

    Quite uncharacteristically, the speaker admits that since that early time at the very beginning of this love relationship, she has, indeed, “grown serene / And strong.”   Such an admission is difficult for the  personality of this troubled speaker, but she does remain aware that she must somehow come to terms with her evolving growth.

    First Tercet:   Skepticism for Protection

    A still renewable fear … O love, O troth …
    Lest these enclaspèd hands should never hold,
    This mutual kiss drop down between us both

    Still, even though this wary speaker is cognizant of her growth in terms of serenity and strength, she believes that God has instilled in her the ability to remain somewhat skeptical in order to protect herself from certain torture at having been wrong about the relationship.

    This speaker knows that if, “these enclaspèd hands should never hold,” she would be devastated if she had not protected her heart by retaining those doubts.   If the “mutual kiss” should “drop between us both,” this ever-thinking speaker is sure her life would be filled with even more grief and sorrow.

    Second Tercet:  Wrenching Feeling

    As an unowned thing, once the lips being cold.
    And Love, be false! if he, to keep one oath,
    Must lose one joy, by his life’s star foretold.

    The speaker then spreads across the border of the tercets the wrenching feeling that her words are causing her.   This melancholy speaker feels that she must give utterance to these thoughts, but she knows that they will cause pain, even to her belovèd. But if, “Love, be false,” then she simply must acknowledge that possibility for both their sakes.

    The speaker anticipates the likelihood that she might have to “lose one joy” which may already be written in her stars, and not knowing which joy that might be, she must remain watchful that it might be the very love she is striving so mightily to protect.

  • Clinging to Darkness

    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem 

     Clinging to Darkness

    Spring clouds on the horizon
    Bring to mind the forfeit
    In cool nights of no return.

    The refrain of salad days
    Clings to the same past
    Where things were different—

    Different as what we allow
    Ourselves to believe
    About love, hate, and tears,

    Different as spring breezes
    In the morning before
    Noon brings the flowers—

    Before evening carries in
    The lost memories of resolution
    In the transparent rain,

    Before cucumbers can sprout
    In the garden of desire
    As if they could ever live.

    Spring clouds that bring wet
    Thoughts to the strawberry fields
    Cling to darkness unveiled.

  • Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 35 “If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange”

    Image: Elizabeth Barrett Browning – Library of Congress

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 35 “If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange”

    In Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet 35 “If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange,” the poet’s speaker questions her belovèd to receive assurance of his love as a shelter from her anxiety as she prepares to leave her childhood home. 

    Introduction and Text of Sonnet 35 “If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange”

    The speaker in Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet 35 “If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange”muses upon how she may react to leaving her childhood environment.    No doubt the speaker is elated at the prospect of beginning a life with the man she adores so adamantly, but as the reader has watched this speaker, it has become clear that any change in her station will cause abundant anxiety as she navigates the course of new her life.

    Sonnet 35 “If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange”

    If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
    And be all to me? Shall I never miss
    Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss
    That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange,
    When I look up, to drop on a new range
    Of walls and floors, another home than this?
    Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is
    Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change?
    That’s hardest. If to conquer love, has tried,
    To conquer grief, tries more, as all things prove;
    For grief indeed is love and grief beside.
    Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love.
    Yet love me—wilt thou? Open thine heart wide,
    And fold within the wet wings of thy dove.

    Commentary on Sonnet 35 “If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange”

    The speaker is asking questions of her belovèd; she needs assurance of his love as a shelter from her anxiety as she prepares to move from her childhood home.

    First Quatrain:  With an Eye Toward the Future

    If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
    And be all to me? Shall I never miss
    Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss
    That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange,

    The speaker begins her inquiry as she seeks to ascertain whether her belovèd plans to abandon his own life context in order to live with her; she is, of course “leav[ing] all for [him].”  

    The questioning speaker carries on with a further inquiry, wondering but also correctly believing that she will long for familiar events that currently and have always filled her life.  She will miss such things as, “blessing,” “home-talk,” and “the common kiss.”

    The speaker then poses her question rather diplomatically in order to suggest that while she hopes she will not hanker back after her old home-life, she continues to harbor doubts about her ability to cut those ties so quickly and completely.   She then admits that she “count[s] it strange,” thinking that she would feel otherwise as she leaves her previous residence.

    Second Quatrain:   To Remain Steady

    When I look up, to drop on a new range
    Of walls and floors, another home than this?
    Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is
    Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change?

    The speaker then renders clarity for her missing the “walls and floors” that she has for so long remained accustomed to observing. For this speaker, the ordinary day to day observations and even noises around the home have become very significant in helping her remain truly steady in her view of reality.

    This speaker knows that she is accustomed to taking flights on mental wings that may sail her too far off from the here and now of daily life.  Then she poses a very vital question, wondering if her belovèd will be able keep her from continuing to grieve over past losses.  

    Having her belovèd beside her, though, leads the speaker to believe that her environmental change will affect her much less traumatically than she might imagine.   Although the speaker feels that her own eyes “are too tender to know change,” she can navigate the notion that with her suitor’s assistance, she will likely find adjusting to the new environment possible.

    First Tercet:  A Philosophical Leaning

    That’s hardest. If to conquer love, has tried,
    To conquer grief, tries more, as all things prove;
    For grief indeed is love and grief beside.

    In the first tercet, the speaker examines some philosophical leaning that has motivated her earlier questions.  Subduing grief has been the speaker’s most difficult task.  She finds that she must also conquer love, and that is also difficult.  

    However, most difficult has been her struggle with pain, sorrow, and that unending grief.  She has discovered that “grief indeed is love and grief beside.”  If she were to lose her belovèd or feel abandoned, her grief would compound beyond endurance.

    This speaker has repeatedly agonized over every aspect of her life, sad fact after sad event.  Her self-doubt has prevented her from immediate acceptance of the love of one she considers far above her station.  

    This speaker’s low self-esteem has caused much musing and wringing of hands.  But she always remains dignified in her questions for understanding, and those questions to her belovèd demonstrate a strong mind despite its many doubts.

    Second Tercet: Bold Speech

    Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love.
    Yet love me—wilt thou? Open thine heart wide,
    And fold within the wet wings of thy dove.

    The speaker readily confesses that her long-time knowledge of sorrow has rendered her “hard to love.” Thus, she then demands that her lover, “Yet love me,” and then once again retracts the command, converting it to a mild question, “wilt thou?” 

    She has long lamented that she has grieved greatly in her lifetime; at times, she seems nearly tipsy with her idiosyncratic ways, as she proposes again a command to her belovèd to continue to hold her in his heart.  She colorfully refers to her soul as a dove with “wet wings” likely because of her having shed so many tears.

    The speaker finds any kind of bold speech beyond her capabilities, yet at the same time, she has convinced herself that she must unite with her deep soul, which she refers to as “dove.”  She must find her best self in order to continue in her relationship with her wonderful, magnificent belovèd.

    Image:  Robert Browning visits Elizabeth Barrett at 50 Wimpole Street – painting by Celestial Images

  • Gay Birds Dancing 

    Image:  Created by Grok inspired by “Gay Birds Dancing”

    Gay Birds Dancing 

    The feet of dancing words
    Tip lightly down the path
    Dawn sprayed and all new
    In their sheen of glory.

    Dapple dreams spill
    Luster on the day’s memory
    Of old rocks with brown moss
    Baking in celestial time. 

    Fog covers the toad
    And moistens the road
    To better nights
    Where glee dwells.

    The notions of gay birds
    Lay their folly like seed
    On the prancing herds
    Of free dancing words.

  • Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee”

    Image: Elizabeth Barrett Browning – Baylor University

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee”

    Returning to the melancholy character in sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee,” as she has so often maintained, the speaker contrasts her light-hearted childhood’s response with her serious maturity.

    Introduction and Text of Sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee”

    The character speaking in Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee” from Sonnets from the Portuguese has returned to her melancholy attitude.  Now she is contrasting her happy, carefree childhood years to her very stern and serious life as a mature adult.

    The speaker however is addressing her belovèd, imploring him to consider how important he is to her.  As earnest, obedient, and steadfast as she was as a child, now her constancy with her belovèd is even more in evidence.    The speaker continues to build her case for deserving the love of such an accomplished man, whom she considers to be much above her own station in life.  

    Sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee”

    With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee
    As those, when thou shalt call me by my name—
    Lo, the vain promise! is the same, the same,
    Perplexed and ruffled by life’s strategy?
    When called before, I told how hastily
    I dropped my flowers or brake off from a game,
    To run and answer with the smile that came
    At play last moment, and went on with me
    Through my obedience. When I answer now,
    I drop a grave thought, break from solitude;
    Yet still my heart goes to thee—ponder how—
    Not as to a single good, but all my good!
    Lay thy hand on it, best one, and allow
    That no child’s foot could run fast as this blood.

    Commentary on Sonnet 34 “With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee”

    Returning to the melancholy character she has so often maintained, the speaker contrasts her light-hearted childhood’s response with her serious maturity.

    First Quatrain:  The Necessity of Consistency

    With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee
    As those, when thou shalt call me by my name—
    Lo, the vain promise! is the same, the same,
    Perplexed and ruffled by life’s strategy?

    The pensive speaker professes a need to be consistent; thus, she repeats the word “same” three times in three lines.  She is of the “same heart” as she was earlier in her lifetime.  She is called by “[her] name.  But she is unsure about “life’s strategy.”  She is even “perplexed and ruffled” by it.

    The speaker hopes to convince herself that love has merely continued to flow into around her life.  She also demands from her new love relationship a constant heart as she lovingly and gently makes demands on her belovèd.

    Second Quatrain:  The Obedient One

    When called before, I told how hastily
    I dropped my flowers or brake off from a game,
    To run and answer with the smile that came
    At play last moment, and went on with me

    Earlier in her lifetime, the melancholy speaker had played the obedient one, coming when called, dropping her “flowers” or leaving off her “game.”   She ran to answer and even “with a smile” she appeared. Such behavior continued because of her dedication to obedience.

    The speaker needs to be always consistent in her emotional responses.  The static melancholy that she has experienced has programmed her to need a steady environment, even if she must create it from fragments of memory and emotional responses from the past.

    First Tercet:  Adult Life Different Details

    Through my obedience. When I answer now,
    I drop a grave thought, break from solitude;
    Yet still my heart goes to thee—ponder how—

    Now the specific details of life are a bit different.  Instead of games and flowers, she answers from the position of having dropped “a grave thought” or a “break from solitude.”  But her heart goes now always to the belovèd.  She spills out a command before venturing on, telling her beloved to “ponder how . . . .” 

    Even though the details of her adult life are different, her emotional responses are essentially the same.  Her same heart-responses continue to guide her.  Her new love relationship has become even more important to her than any relationship before.

    Second Tercet:  From Childhood to Adulthood

    Not as to a single good, but all my good!
    Lay thy hand on it, best one, and allow
    That no child’s foot could run fast as this blood.

    The speaker then concludes that the good her beloved has done her is not one in one single area but in “all my good!”  She asks her beloved to understand that as fleet foot as she was at obedience as child, she is much faster at running to her belovèd than she could have ever been in her earlier life.  

    The speaker’s blood now runs faster and with more passion than ever her foot did as a child.  As important to her as were her earlier loves, her new belovèd has become even more vital to her life.

    The speaker’s melancholy seems to be desperate for her lover to grasp his importance to her.  Thus, she continues to compare and contrast her life’s environments from childhood to maturity.

    Image: Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning – 1852. Portraits painted by Thomas Buchanan Read

  • Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear”

    Image: Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning – Two Poets in Love

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear”

    In sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear,” the speaker relives a happy event of her childhood after her belovèd calls her by her childhood nickname.  She is taking every opportunity to experience joyful feelings, after suffering through deep melancholy for most of her life.

    Introduction and Text of Sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear”

    In Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s  sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear”from Sonnets from the Portuguese, the speaker encourages her belovèd to call her by her childhood “pet-name” because it reminds her of a happy time in her life.  She appears to be taking pains to remain in a positive frame of mind.

    The speaker is not only composing a loving tribute to her belovèd, but she is also revealing her journey from psychological misery to mental and physical happiness in a relationship.  

    Sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear”

    Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear
    The name I used to run at, when a child,
    From innocent play, and leave the cowslips piled,
    To glance up in some face that proved me dear
    With the look of its eyes. I miss the clear
    Fond voices which, being drawn and reconciled
    Into the music of Heaven’s undefiled,
    Call me no longer. Silence on the bier,
    While I call God—call God!—So let thy mouth
    Be heir to those who are now exanimate. Gather the north flowers to complete the south,
    And catch the early love up in the late.
    Yes, call me by that name,—and I, in truth,
    With the same heart, will answer and not wait.

    Reading of Sonnet 33

    Commentary on Sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear”

     In Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 33 “Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear,” the speaker is reliving a happy event of her childhood after her belovèd calls her by her childhood nickname.

    First Quatrain:   A Memory from Childhood

    Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear
    The name I used to run at, when a child,
    From innocent play, and leave the cowslips piled,
    To glance up in some face that proved me dear

    The speaker addresses her belovèd; she exclaims, “Yes, call me by my pet-name!”—which indicates that he has, perhaps out-of-the-blue, called her by that name. Her reaction seems to surprise her, and she encourages him to continue to call her by that name.

    The surprised speaker remembers that as a child a family member (or some other person whom she loved and respected) would call her by her pet-name to come from whatever she was playing so innocently as children are wont to do.

    And she would then come running, leaving behind a pile of flowers that she had gathered.  The speaker, as that child she is now remembering, would look up into the pleasant face of the one who had called her and feel that she was cherished as she saw that love was beaming from the eyes of that person.

    Second Quatrain:  The Silence of the Departed

    With the look of its eyes. I miss the clear
    Fond voices which, being drawn and reconciled
    Into the music of Heaven’s undefiled,
    Call me no longer. Silence on the bier,

    The speaker reports that she misses those sweet beloved voices that called to her, for now those voice are silent and are residing in “Heaven,” from where they can no longer be heard calling to her.  There is only silence emanated from a coffin-like locus.   The speaker is once again drifting into her customary melancholy, decrying the silence that now emanates from the deceased.

    The speaker does not identify who these “voices” are: it could be a mother, father, aunt, uncle, or any relative or friend by whom she felt loved when they called her by her pet-name.   The speaker’s emphasis is on the feeling she is trying to recollect, however, not on the specific individual who engendered that fond feeling.

    First Tercet:  Appealing to God

    While I call God—call God!—So let thy mouth
    Be heir to those who are now exanimate. Gather the north flowers to complete the south,

    Continuing in the melancholy vein, the speaker reveals that with those fond voices silent in death, she called on God in her grief. She emphasizes her appeal to God by repeating, “call God—call God!” The speaker then urges her belovèd to let those words fall from his lips—that same words in her pet-name that came from her belovèds who are now deceased.

    As she asks him to do as her loving relatives had done and call her by her pet-name.  She is being taken her back to a fond past memory. Her belovèd suitor is then “gather[ing] the north flowers to complete the south.”   She metaphorically likens direction to time: north is past, south is present.

    Second Tercet:  Past Pleasantry, Present Passion

    And catch the early love up in the late.
    Yes, call me by that name,—and I, in truth,
    With the same heart, will answer and not wait.

    The emotional speaker adds that by hearing her present love speak those nostalgic words, the two loves coalesce and  begin drawing together her past pleasantry with the present that now holds so much love for her.

    Again the speaker exhorts him, “yes, call me by that name.” And she adds that she will respond to him, feeling the same love that she felt before—this love that will not allow her to procrastinate in her response to his fond gesture.

  • The Beautiful Mother

    Image: Created by Gemini inspired by the poem

    The Beautiful Mother

    “I am Thy babe of eternity, safe in the cradle of Thine omnipresent bosom.” 
                                                                                      —Paramahansa Yogananda

    On this earth where dreams reign
    And the True is mocked and damned,
    The wide corridors of mirth shrink
    To a ribbon as revelers fumble
    And stumble, blindly seeking each
    Poison-laced thrill.  They frown and feint.

    Thou wilt hold them in Thine arms
    Until they can hold their own healed hearts.
    Thou wilt balm each burn, dry each drop
    Until they can walk in the sun of eternal smiles.
    Thou wilt bring to them the fountain 
    Of Thine all-quenching living waters 
    Where dreams turn all golden 
    In the joy of Thy laughter.
    Thou wilt spray their souls with eternal spring.

    Giving Thee all they own to purchase eternal Bliss,
    They will possess the Joy no tongue can pronounce.

  • Breaking the Coffee Habit:  A Devotee’s Reflection in the Spirit of Paramahansa Yogananda

    Image:  Created by Gemini inspired by the essay

    Breaking the Coffee Habit:  A Devotee’s Reflection in the Spirit of Paramahansa Yogananda

    “The soul is ever-free. It is deathless because it is birthless. It cannot be regimented by the stars.”—Paramahansa Yogananda in Autobiography of a Yogi

    There is a light within  each human being that has never dimmed. It shone before your first sip of coffee and will blaze undimmed long after the last cup is set aside. This light is no fleeting glow borrowed from caffeine—it is the eternal flame of the Atman, the divine Self that the great guru Paramahansa Yogananda (Guruji*) devoted his life to revealing.

    Though the soul itself remains ever-free—untouched by birth, death, or any compulsion—it is the mind, clouded by identification with the physical encasement (body), that feels bound. To release the subtle dependency on caffeine is to loosen the mind’s grip on external props, allowing the soul’s innate radiance to shine through unobstructed.

    Liberation:  Practicing Non-Attachment

    Paramahansa Yogananda taught that the spiritual path is, at its essence, liberation from all bondages. Every habit, however mild, forms an invisible chain that restrains the mind’s will and veils the soul’s bliss. Vairagya—non-attachment—was for him not austere denial but a joyful turning toward God, peeling away artificial stimulations so the natural joy of the soul might emerge.

    The morning reach for coffee whispers to the mind: “You are not enough. You need something outside to awaken, to be alert, to live.” Each conscious choice to set the cup aside answers with the authority of the Self (Soul): “I am sufficient. God’s energy sustains me. I need nothing but the Infinite.”

    In this small act of detachment lies a direct practice of the renunciation Guruji praised as the foundation of lasting happiness. (See his “How to Free Yourself from Bad Habits” in The Divine Romance.)

    Prana: The Divine Source of Vitality

    Guruji offered his disciples something far more potent than any earthly brew: the science of prana, the cosmic life-force that animates all creation, the very breath of God flowing through every cell.  Through his Energization Exercises, Hong-Sau and Om Techniques, and Kriya Yoga, he showed how to draw consciously upon this inexhaustible, cosmic vitality. 

    Caffeine provides only borrowed energy—stimulating yet depleting, agitating the nerves, inflaming emotions, and leaving behind the fatigue it momentarily masked. Prana, in contrast, restores, regenerates, and uplifts without rebound.  To detach from caffeine is to make space for this greater gift. It is to declare to the Universe: “I am ready to receive Thine energy directly, without the veil of stimulants.” 

    Those who meditate deeply know the truth from experience: after genuine stillness comes an alertness and joy no cup could produce—a clear, steady luminosity of mind that calms rather than jangles, sustains without craving, and reveals the ever-new bliss of Sat-Chit-Ananda.  What the mind once sought clumsily in a morning ritual was always a veiled longing for this divine state—available within, waiting to be claimed.

    The Will: God’s Greatest Gift to the Mind

    Yoganandaji held the human will in profound reverence as the soul’s instrument for mastery over body and senses. The greater the will, the greater the flow of energy. Every victory over a habit strengthens this divine faculty; every surrender dulls it.

    Guruji recommends beginning with small disciplines, sustained with determination and devotion, for such discipline burns away dependency and forges the will in purifying fire. Yet he was ever tender and non-judgmental, counseling patience, humor, and prayer in moments of weakness. 

    When craving arises, sit quietly, breathe deeply, and inwardly call: “Divine Mother, fill me now with Your energy.” To transcend through such prayer is genuine alchemy—the mind’s transformation by grace.

    The Body as Temple: Cultivating Sattva

    Guruji regarded the physical encasement as a sacred temple hosting the soul for its earthly evolution. He guided toward sattvic living—purity, clarity, lightness—in diet, habits, and rest, while cautioning against rajasic influences that stir restlessness.

    Caffeine, by its stimulating nature, is rajasic: it agitates the nervous system, disrupts emotional balance, and creates cycles of artificial highs and lows that hamper meditation and obscure the still, small voice within. 

    Letting go that stimulant honors the temple’s potential for steadiness. Devotees who make this shift often marvel at the results: moods even out, sleep deepens, morning meditation quiets, and the mind settles into God’s intended rhythm—where inner hearing becomes clear and natural.

    Sacred Tradition: Offering Love to the Guru

    In the sacred tradition of discipleship, giving up a cherished habit becomes an act of devotion—an offering laid at the Guru’s feet. It says, “I trust Thy guidance more than this craving.” Guruji taught that the Guru cherishes not perfection but sincere effort, the heart’s turning.  (See “The Bad Man Who Was Preferred by God)

    Each morning that you choose prana over stimulation, stillness over restlessness, the soul’s light over borrowed brightness, you place another garland before Guruji. In the silent ways of the Guru-disciple bond, he receives it and strengthens you for the next choice.  Devotees quickly learn that by the grace of the Guru, all difficulties are resolved and all good things are possible.

    A Personal Quip: My Quest for God

    Since March 1978, I have walked this path charted by my Guru Paramahansa Yogananda and his organization Self-Realization Fellowship—meditating, praying, serving, studying under Guruji’s grace. I have made my humble attempts to offer as much as possible to this quest for God.

    This one small, sacred surrender—to free my mind from yet another veil of dependency—lies well within my power. The same will that drew me to my Guru’s feet can gently break this last chain, allowing fuller realization of my ever-free soul.

    I must follow this sacred path with greater trust and faith.  I must strengthen it daily in meditation. I must know with certainty: the bliss tasted in my deepest meditations is the immortal energy that will sustain me and transform every craving into quiet, unshakable joy. The light within needs no fuel but God, the Divine Stimulant. 

    O Divine Belovèd!  Let my mind’s clouds part, and let the light shine free.

    —————

    *Guruji is the reverential appellation that devotees use in addressing or referring to their beloved Guru; this is the appellation I personally prefer.  Other devotees prefer referring to Paramahansa Yogananda as Master, who was and is the master over his human and divine Self.