I cannot contribute to Tara Penry's Hope Library because I do not have a proper 'substack' and I do not want one. But if you and Tara do not mind, I will write my contribution here. It is a poem I read on a funeral monument in an ancient cathedral in Bath, England, when I was aged about 11 and on holiday with my family in 1956.` We were allowed to explore this cathedral on our own and as I wandered up the aisle on the left-hand side, reading all the Georgian monumental epitaphs, I stopped at one high up on the wall, with a note underneath it, explaining that the poem displayed had been composed by a young woman, Elizabeth Peirce, who had died unexpectedly aged 19 and had left it hidden in her mattress to be found by her friends. The poem had no title and is circa 1791.
'Death is the common lot for all,
it spareth neither great nor small,
then, since the time's not in our power,
let's live as though t'wer our last hour.
For come when it will, t'will sudden seem
although the warning long hath been.
And be not troubled if your friends
come suddenly unto their ends,
for t'is a debt that all must pay
though some do go a nearer way than others -
yet the journey's sure
and some pain in it we must endure.
How necessary t'is to be
prepared for death, pray learn of me.'
I was most moved by reading of this unknown young woman's quiet fortitude and resolve: of her probable premonition that she would soon die; of her dignity and composure; and leaving her poem to be discovered after her death. I instantly memorised it and have often thought about it in the intervening years (I now approach 80.) It gave me hope for many reasons: it was a poem and I instinctively apprehended that poetry was the true language of the soul. It spoke the truth about life and the vanity of human wishes. It did not seek to hide the fact of death behind therapeutic phrases. That a young woman not many years older than myself could have penned these thoughts was a consolation to me, as I often thought about death and could not share these thoughts with anyone, least of all my own family.
So although the subject of death may seem an odd contribution to a the theme of hope, I think this poem indicates that the human spirit can triumph at this ultimate moment. We need this message, especially today, when death, in the irreligious western world, is feared and fought.
Thank you for this carefully tended memory and this poem. I love those moments when a poem or scrap of history feels timeless and present with us. That girl writing c. 1791 still feels alive to me in her words. Also, I love how you have preserved this memory. Beautiful! “So long lives this / And this gives life to thee.”
The Hope Library includes a game of five-word responses, like a living poem. For your note:
Thank you so much for this wonderful poem and your personal experience with it. This is what poetry should do, give the soul the ability to travel through time and touch another soul. In this case, one young person to another. And yet, it stays with you for years and years because it would impoverish you to forget it.
Very beautiful, Francis. Thank you for taking the time to write this.
Beautiful. Thank you.
I cannot contribute to Tara Penry's Hope Library because I do not have a proper 'substack' and I do not want one. But if you and Tara do not mind, I will write my contribution here. It is a poem I read on a funeral monument in an ancient cathedral in Bath, England, when I was aged about 11 and on holiday with my family in 1956.` We were allowed to explore this cathedral on our own and as I wandered up the aisle on the left-hand side, reading all the Georgian monumental epitaphs, I stopped at one high up on the wall, with a note underneath it, explaining that the poem displayed had been composed by a young woman, Elizabeth Peirce, who had died unexpectedly aged 19 and had left it hidden in her mattress to be found by her friends. The poem had no title and is circa 1791.
'Death is the common lot for all,
it spareth neither great nor small,
then, since the time's not in our power,
let's live as though t'wer our last hour.
For come when it will, t'will sudden seem
although the warning long hath been.
And be not troubled if your friends
come suddenly unto their ends,
for t'is a debt that all must pay
though some do go a nearer way than others -
yet the journey's sure
and some pain in it we must endure.
How necessary t'is to be
prepared for death, pray learn of me.'
I was most moved by reading of this unknown young woman's quiet fortitude and resolve: of her probable premonition that she would soon die; of her dignity and composure; and leaving her poem to be discovered after her death. I instantly memorised it and have often thought about it in the intervening years (I now approach 80.) It gave me hope for many reasons: it was a poem and I instinctively apprehended that poetry was the true language of the soul. It spoke the truth about life and the vanity of human wishes. It did not seek to hide the fact of death behind therapeutic phrases. That a young woman not many years older than myself could have penned these thoughts was a consolation to me, as I often thought about death and could not share these thoughts with anyone, least of all my own family.
So although the subject of death may seem an odd contribution to a the theme of hope, I think this poem indicates that the human spirit can triumph at this ultimate moment. We need this message, especially today, when death, in the irreligious western world, is feared and fought.
Thank you for this carefully tended memory and this poem. I love those moments when a poem or scrap of history feels timeless and present with us. That girl writing c. 1791 still feels alive to me in her words. Also, I love how you have preserved this memory. Beautiful! “So long lives this / And this gives life to thee.”
The Hope Library includes a game of five-word responses, like a living poem. For your note:
Facing death alike, fearless, composed.
Thank you so much for this wonderful poem and your personal experience with it. This is what poetry should do, give the soul the ability to travel through time and touch another soul. In this case, one young person to another. And yet, it stays with you for years and years because it would impoverish you to forget it.
Very beautiful, Francis. Thank you for taking the time to write this.