Marguirite Porete

Marguirite Porete (c.1260?—1310) is a French mystic and poet who stood trial under the Inquisition. One of her violations was that her book, The Mirror of Simple Souls, was published in Old French rather than Latin. She had given a copy to the Bishop of Cambrai, who had it burned in her presence.

Little is known about her outside of the records from her trial. Some believe she was a Beguine — part of a 13th century lay religious order that stressed the imitation of Jesus’ life through lives of poverty, care for the poor and sick, and religious devotion.

Her book was deemed heretical by the Inquisitor of France who ordered her to remove it from circulation. She did not obey this order, and was imprisoned in Paris for a year and a half. When she refused, at her trial, to recant her views or to take the oath the Inquisitor required, she was pronounced guilty and burned at the stake.

Despite this, The Mirror of Simple Souls survived and was translated into Latin, Italian and Middle English — though for many years she was not known to be the author.

The following poem was translated by Ellen L. Babinsky.

You Who Would Read This Book

You who would read this book,
If you indeed wish to grasp it,
Think about what you say,
For it is very difficult to comprehend;
Humility, who is keeper of the treasury of
Knowledge
And the mother of the other Virtues,
Must overtake you.

Theologians and other clerks,
You will not have the intellect for it,
No matter how brilliant your abilities,
If you do not proceed humbly.
And may Love and Faith, together
Cause you to rise above Reason,
Since they are the ladies of this house.

Humble, then, your wisdom
Which is based on Reason,
And place all your fidelity
In those things which are given
By Love, illuminated through Faith.
And thus you will understand this book
Which makes the Soul live by love.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of six poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Poiema/Cascade), plus three anthologies — available through Wipf & Stock. His new book The Role of the Moon, inspired by the Metaphysical Poets, is now available from Paraclete Press.

Anne Corkett

Anne Corkett is a Canadian poet who has authored the collections: Between Seasons (Borealis,1981), The Salamander’s Laughter (Dundurn, 1985), and Summertown (St. Thomas Poetry Series, 1999). She lives in Orangeville, Ontario.

While in high school one of her friends was a niece of Margaret Avison. According to David A. Kent’s new Avison biography, Optic Heart (St. Thomas Poetry Series, 2026), “Corkett first met Avison while she was studying for her undergraduate degree at York [University], and over the next many years Avison acted as a counselor, literary advisor, friend, and support to her…” They began meeting weekly for tea, and Bible study. After Anne shared a few poems she’d written about Nova Scotia, Margaret gave her a book of Elizabeth Bishop’s poems, and they began to read poetry together. For many years she corresponded with Margaret Avison; the letters Corkett received are now archived at the University of Manitoba.

The following poem first appeared in Canadian Literature (Spring 1977).

Idle

I could believe
I am water — disliking
pressure, I meander; am much
given to idle
reflection.

There is a certain
amount to be learned
from the way water
manages its shallows,
the dull resistance
of stones, the earth
readily giving way.

I could believe
I am all things did
I not lack the perfect
accord of things whose
purpose is not
to seek purpose
but to teach there is
no elemental bar to the design.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of six poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Poiema/Cascade), plus three anthologies — available through Wipf & Stock. His new book The Role of the Moon, inspired by the Metaphysical Poets, is now available from Paraclete Press.

John Donne*

John Donne (1572―1631) is one of England’s most influential poets. In his early career Donne spent his inheritance on women and extensive travel, writing erotic poetry and satires. However, in his latter years he dedicated himself to being a priest and to writing poetry of the kingdom. He served as Dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral from 1621 to 1631.

Donne is one of the two most significant poets, along with George Herbert, known as the Metaphysicals. For me these poets are of personal significance, as they have influenced me in my poetry for a long time. Most recently, my book The Role of the Moon features poems in conversation with these poets — including 19 poems inspired by each of John Donne’s 19 Holy Sonnets.

I say in the introduction to this new poetry book, “It is hardly a clear category, but Metaphysical Poets to me simply mean those who use metaphors ― sometimes elaborate, extensive metaphors known as conceits ― to talk about ideas outside of human sense perception. Because these poets were deeply dedicated to their Christian faith ― Herbert, Donne, and Traherne being Anglican priests ― much of their poetry expresses their wrestlings with God, and with their own weaknesses.”

Holy Sonnet VII

At the round earth's imagin'd corners, blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scatter'd bodies go;
All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow,
All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you whose eyes
Shall behold God and never taste death's woe.
But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space,
For if above all these my sins abound,
'Tis late to ask abundance of thy grace
When we are there; here on this lowly ground
Teach me how to repent; for that's as good
As if thou'hadst seal'd my pardon with thy blood.

*This is the fourth Kingdom Poets post about John Donne: first post, second post, third post.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of six poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Poiema/Cascade), plus three anthologies — available through Wipf & Stock. His new book The Role of the Moon, inspired by the Metaphysical Poets, is now available from Paraclete Press.

Jupiter Hammon

Jupiter Hammon (1711—c.1806) is the first black person to publish a poem in North America. He was born into slavery on Long Island, New York, at the Henry Lloyd estate. The Lloyd family, whom he served his entire life, permitted him to receive a basic education, which enabled him to help them with their commercial ventures. It is believed he was given access to the estate’s library. That first poem, entitled "An Evening Thought: Salvation by Christ, with Penitential Cries", appeared as a broadside in 1751.

Hammon served as a preacher among the other black slaves on the Lloyd estate, and was a respected part of the African-American community. He travelled with the family to Hartford, Connecticut during the Revolutionary War to dodge British invasion. The following poem was written during this time.

Somewhere on the Lloyd estate, he was buried in an unmarked grave.

An Address to Miss Phillis Wheatly

-------------------------I

O come you pious youth! adore
-----The wisdom of thy God,
In bringing thee from distant shore,
-----To learn His holy word.
------------------------------Eccles. xii.

-------------------------II

Thou mightst been left behind
-----Amidst a dark abode;
God’s tender mercy still combin’d,
-----Thou hast the holy word.
------------------------------Psal. cxxxv, 2, 3.

-------------------------III

Fair wisdom’s ways are paths of peace,
-----And they that walk therein,
Shall reap the joys that never cease,
-----And Christ shall be their king.
------------------------------Psal. i, 1,2; Prov. iii, 7.

-------------------------IV

God’s tender mercy brought thee here;
-----Tost o’er the raging main;
In Christian faith thou hast a share,
-----Worth all the gold of Spain.
------------------------------Psal. cii, 1, 3, 4.

-------------------------V

While thousands tossed by the sea,
-----And others settled down,
God’s tender mercy set thee free,
-----From dangers that come down.
------------------------------Death.

-------------------------VI

That thou a pattern still might be,
-----To youth of Boston town,
The blessed Jesus set thee free,
-----From every sinful wound.
------------------------------2 Cor. v, 10.

-------------------------VII

The blessed Jesus, who came down,
-----Unvail’d his sacred face,
To cleanse the soul of every wound,
-----And give repenting grace.
------------------------------Rom. v, 21.

-------------------------VIII

That we poor sinners may obtain,
-----The pardon of our sin;
Dear blessed Jesus now constrain,
-----And bring us flocking in.
------------------------------Psal. xxiv, 6, 7, 8.

-------------------------IX

Come you, Phillis, now aspire,
-----And seek the living God,
So step by step thou mayst go higher,
-----Till perfect in the word.
------------------------------Matth. vii, 7, 8.

-------------------------X

While thousands mov’d to distant shore,
-----And others left behind,
The blessed Jesus still adore,
-----Implant this in thy mind.
------------------------------Psal. lxxxix, 1.

-------------------------XI

Thou hast left the heathen shore;
-----Thro’ mercy of the Lord,
Among the heathen live no more,
-----Come magnify thy God.
------------------------------Psal. xxxiv, 1, 2, 3.

-------------------------XII

I pray the living God may be,
-----The shepherd of thy soul;
His tender mercies still are free,
-----His mysteries to unfold.
------------------------------Psal. lxxx, 1, 2, 3.

-------------------------XIII

Thou, Phillis, when thou hunger hast,
-----Or pantest for thy God;
Jesus Christ is thy relief,
-----Thou hast the holy word.
------------------------------Psal. xiii, 1, 2, 3.

-------------------------XIV

The bounteous mercies of the Lord,
-----Are hid beyond the sky,
And holy souls that love his word,
-----Shall taste them when they die.
------------------------------Psal. xvi, 10, 11.

-------------------------XV

These bounteous mercies are from God,
-----The merits of His Son;
The humble soul that loves His word,
-----He chooses for His own.
------------------------------Psal. xxxiv, 15.

-------------------------XVI

Come, dear Phillis, be advis’d,
-----To drink Samaria’s flood;
There nothing that shall suffice
-----But Christ’s redeeming blood.
------------------------------John iv, 13, 14.

-------------------------XVII

While thousands muse with earthly toys;
-----And range about the street,
Dear Phillis, seek for heaven’s joys,
-----Where we do hope to meet.
------------------------------Matth. vi, 33.

-------------------------XVIII

When God shall send his summons down,
-----And number saints together,
Blest angels chant, (triumphant sound),
-----Come live with me forever.
------------------------------Psal. cxvi, 15.

-------------------------XIX

The humble soul shall fly to God,
-----And leave the things of time,
Start forth as ’twere at the first word,
-----To taste things more divine.
------------------------------Matth. v, 3, 8.

-------------------------XX

Behold! the soul shall waft away,
-----Whene’er we come to die,
And leave its cottage made of clay,
-----In twinkling of an eye.
------------------------------Cor. xv, 51, 52, 53.

-------------------------XXI

Now glory be to the Most High,
-----United praises given,
By all on earth, incessantly,

-----And all the host of heav’n.
------------------------------Psal. cl, 6.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of six poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Poiema/Cascade), plus three anthologies — available through Wipf & Stock. His new book The Role of the Moon, inspired by the Metaphysical Poets, is now available from Paraclete Press.

Vasile Voiculescu

Vasile Voiculescu (1884–1963) is a Romanian poet, playwright, and short story writer. He also wrote as a journalist, and for radio. After high school he began to study philosophy at the University of Bucharest, but he soon decided instead to study medicine, which led to his career as a physician.

In 1916 his first poetry collection appeared — or rather it almost appeared — but the occupying German forces destroyed every copy. In 1918, his volume From the Land of the Wisent was published. He subsequently published other poetry books such as, Poems with Angels (1927), Destiny (1939), and The Last Imagined Sonnets of Shakespeare (1964). Much of his prose and dramatic work was published posthumously.

Voiculescu wrote many poems of the Christian faith, particularly focussing on the events of Christ’s life. He was persecuted by Romania’s communist authorities after WWII because of his beliefs in Christianity and democracy. They first prevented him from publishing, and then in 1958 he was imprisoned. During his incarceration he grew ill; he died of cancer a few months after his release.

The Burden

Lord, I complained my life was hard and grim,
I begged You take it back… You would not heed my plea.
You only said: “Let it not be yours alone—give it to them,
Divide your days with others, as many as there be.”

So off I went to cast away: to some my coat,
To others bread, or sandals, or my daily fare.
I crossed the earth, my years gone by, my soul laid bare,
And still my burden deepened, my secret none would note.

Again I returned, and in sorrow I cried:
“Lord, the weight increases, too heavy to bear!
I’m crushed, I cannot take another stride…”
“You must not give more,” You answered with care.

“Then what must I do?”—“Now, you must receive.”
And so I began: from some I took their teaching,
From others, their sorrow, their wounds to grieve,
I took all they gave me, receiving, not preaching;

Some hurled at me hatred, a curse, or disdain,
Far more gave me tears, despair, and pain.
I shared with so many their wounds, their sighs,
They gifted me torment, their sorrowful cries,

So much torment they gifted, I could barely contain.
Rarely a light from someone, more rarely still peace…
Into the cupped vessel of my soul, they cast
Only turmoil, shame, and their anguish.

Yet, Lord, the gift kept growing, ever more
—a mountain of affliction and grief—
I cannot bring myself to tear it from my heart;
All this I gathered: from them mercy, and from You a thought,
No care for myself, my worries are naught;
To bear it, You gave me so much strength and relief,
That my burden is light as a feather’s part.

This post was suggested by Burl Horniachek.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of six poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Poiema/Cascade), plus three anthologies — available through Wipf & Stock. His new book The Role of the Moon, inspired by the Metaphysical Poets, is now available from Paraclete Press.

Sarah Rossiter

Sarah Rossiter is a creatively versatile writer, publishing both poetry and fiction. She is the author of the novel The Human Season, (Little Brown), the short story collection, Beyond This Bitter Air, (Illinois University Press), and the poetry chapbook, Natural Life with No Parole, (Finishing Line Press).

After years of having poetry appear in various journals — including multiple appearances in The Christian Century — Sarah Rossiter has now authored the full-length poetry collection Body of the World, which has just appeared from Cascade Books, and the Poeima Poetry Series. I am honored to have worked with Sarah in bringing this book to the public.

She lives with her husband of over sixty years in Concord, Massachusetts — now a Boston suburb, but once home to such literary figures as Nathaniel Hawthorne, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Louisa May Alcott, and Henry David Thoreau.

Rossiter describes herself as a cradle Episcopalian and a spiritual director who’s been meeting with those on the Path for thirty years. She is the mother of four, grandmother of eleven.

The following poem is from Body of the World.

Half-Light

Waking to winter’s dawn,
room drained of color
except for neon numbers–
6:14– blinking on the bruise
of the bureau against a pale wall

while out the window
a world shrouded, everything,
all of it, wrapped in gauze:

like Lazarus, I think, when
Jesus, weeping, called him forth,
and he woke from death, blinded,
his body bound by strips of cloth
that, like a chrysalis dissolving,
fall away as he rises to stumble
through darkness, stunned,
not knowing where he’d been or
what comes next, until he merges
into sudden sun.

Posted with permission of the poet.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of six poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Poiema/Cascade), plus three anthologies — available through Wipf & Stock. His new book The Role of the Moon, inspired by the Metaphysical Poets, is now available from Paraclete Press.

W.S. Senior

W.S. Senior (1876—1938) is an English scholar, poet, pastor, and teacher to Sri Lanka, which during his time was known as Ceylon. He has been called the “Bard of Lanka” (after his poem “The Call of Lanka”) and the best English poet Sri Lanka has produced — for it was in Sri Lanka where his poetic talent grew to maturity.

He came to Sri Lanka in 1906 and served as the Vice-Principle of Trinity College in Kandy for a decade. He then served as Vicar of Christ Church, Galle Face, from 1916 until 1919. His poetry collection Vita Magistra was published in1937. Although he retired to England, his heart home was always Sri Lanka.

One blogger, D.B.S. Jeyaraj, writes eloquently of his personal experience of the following poem — which had been put to music by Devar Surya Sena. Jeyaraj says it was sung at the prep school he attended.
-----“When we sang the lines ‘Give peace within her borders, Twixt
-----man and man goodwill,’ in those days of innocent childhood,
-----little did we realise that this blessed Island was going to be
-----torn apart by a cruel war lasting for decades. The war has ended
-----now. What is sad and troubling are the efforts by extremists on
-----either side of the ethnic divide to whip up communal passions.
-----One hopes and prays that saner counsel prevails and the
-----merchandising of hatred ceases.”

The Hymn of Ceylon

Jehovah, Thou hast promised
The isles shall wait for Thee,
The joyous isles of ocean,
The jewels of the sea.
Lo! we, this island’s watchmen
Would give and take no rest;
For thus hast Thou commanded
Till our dear land is blessed.

Then bless her mighty Father,
With blessings needed most,
In every verdant village,
By every palmy coast.
On every soaring mountain,
O’er every spreading plain,
May all her sons and daughters
Thy righteousness attain.

Give peace within her borders
Twixt man and man goodwill,
The love all unsuspicious,
The love that works no ill.
In loyal lowly service,
Let each from other learn,
The guardian and the guarded,
Till Christ Himself return.

To Him our land shall listen,
To Him our peoples kneel;
All rule be on His shoulder,
All wrong beneath His heel;
O consummation glorious
Which now by faith we sing;
Come, cast we up the highway
That brings us back our King!

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of six poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Poiema/Cascade), plus three anthologies — available through Wipf & Stock. His new book The Role of the Moon, inspired by the Metaphysical Poets, is now available from Paraclete Press.