Featured Poem: The Glory by Edward Thomas

I’d like to begin the introduction to this week’s featured poem by wishing everyone a happy St. David’s Day, and especially so to the Welsh contingent. Hopefully you will be doing something suitably Welsh to mark the day – perhaps gaze upon some daffodils (most likely in a florist’s, if this especially cold winter is anything to go by; haven’t happened upon any bulbs sprouting just yet) or eat some leek soup (OK, maybe that is pushing it slightly…but it is a national emblem). The Welsh are well known for being an especially lyrical and poetic people, and you need only to look at the works of such poets as Dylan Thomas and W.H Davies to recognise great poetic talent. Another poet who I find to have an especially distinctive way with words is Edward Thomas. Although described as an Anglo-Welsh poet as he was born in London, hailing from a Welsh family denotes Thomas’s inbuilt and strong connections with the country.

Thomas began to write poetry late in his short life, and perhaps this factors into why the Edward Thomas Fellowship labels him as ‘the least rhetorical of poets’. This is a description I would be inclined to agree with, as I find Thomas expresses complex ideas and issues that many of us struggle with in an entirely and easily relatable way. Yet in no way does this mean that Thomas’s poetry is plain – as a wordsmith he can be quite outstanding, conjuring up images of delicate yet sumptuous natural landscapes.

It is a focus on the beauty of nature that occupies a great deal of Thomas’s work, and is one of the central concerns of The Glory. For all the ability Thomas undoubtedly has a poet, he does not seem to consider his insight to mean much – having been inspired by the nature around him, its glory leaves him ‘scorning, all I can ever do, all I can be’; any attempt to put the beauty of nature into words can only ever be synthetic in some way, and therefore inadequate. A feeling of inadequacy does seem to pervade this poem, as Thomas constantly questions himself and wonders whether he should change tack. Thomas appears to be striving for the perfection in the way he writes and describes as he perceives there to be in nature itself. As someone who is wretchedly prone to perfectionism and self-questioning, maybe I see much of myself in his words. Above all, The Glory does appear a poem of paradoxes. The obvious one being that in the berating of himself for not matching the glory of nature, Thomas writes beautifully about it and truthfully about the writing process in itself and all the uncertainty and self-doubt it often induces. Another contradiction comes in the fabulous closing line: ‘I cannot bite the day to the core’. Aside from producing a great image, it has been suggested that it contains religious undertones referring specifically to the Garden of Eden. For someone who appears to want to know more, too much knowledge can be dangerous – indeed, ‘biting to the core’ may lead to the discovery that nature is not as glorious as it seems, with illusions being shattered. Perhaps some trepidation is good if it means you can keep your ideals of ‘glory’ in tact.

The Glory

The glory of the beauty of the morning, –
The cuckoo crying over the untouched dew;
The blackbird that has found it, and the dove
That tempts me on to something sweeter than love;
White clouds ranged even and fair as new-mown hay;
The heat, the stir, the sublime vacancy
Of sky and meadow and forest and my own heart: –
The glory invites me, yet it leaves me scorning
All I can ever do, all I can be,
Beside the lovely of motion, shape, and hue,
The happiness I fancy fit to dwell
In beauty’s presence. Shall I now this day
Begin to seek as far as heaven, as hell,
Wisdom or strength to match this beauty, start
And tread the pale dust pitted with small dark drops,
In hope to find whatever it is I seek,
Hearkening to short-lived happy-seeming things
That we know naught of, in the hazel copse?
Or must I be content with discontent
As larks and swallows are perhaps with wings?
And shall I ask at the day’s end once more
What beauty is, and what I can have meant
By happiness? And shall I let all go,
Glad, weary, or both? Or shall I perhaps know
That I was happy oft and oft before,
Awhile forgetting how I am fast pent,
How dreary-swift, with naught to travel to,
Is Time? I cannot bite the day to the core.

Edward Thomas (1878-1917)

4 thoughts on “Featured Poem: The Glory by Edward Thomas”

  1. AS I am half welsh as my mum insists on reminding me when i laugh at the english beating the welsh at rugby, one feels i should make a comment .The reason the leak is a lucky emblem is that in a battle David told his army to wear the leak in their helmets and of course they won the battle.
    I love music and singing (poor neighbours) but also any thing to do with words , which is a quieter pursuit than singing and can be done anywhere without disturbing anyone.

    The beginning of the poem is like the beginning of a spring day no clouds and all your problems have disappeared, but it is not long for blobs to appear on the horizon such as you arrange to go out for a picnic and soon it is “AAAHHHH I’ve been stung by a wasp or I’ve fallen in the nettles. A day that starts off perfect rarely finish that way.
    I think the poet has come out to escape life but is very unsure of himself as in the line sub-line vacency , perhaps something is missing from his life-and although he may be in heaven at this precise moment , he knows Hell is not to far off . This day though is so beautiful he is perhaps finding it difficult to put down the beauty of the surroundings into words as sometimes you have to be their to appreciate the actual moment of beauty or else gone for ever.
    HE fears he will never be able to capture these feelings of the day or in fact as life itself and this day will be lost and soon forgotten., although get the fealing he is not one to give up and the last line he cannot bite the day to the core which obviously has a bit to do with the garden of EDEN , may mean he can never really understand the beauty of life or its meaning

  2. SORRy people i have just been told by my WELSH mother that DAVID did not have an army, i must have got my DAVIDS mixed up SORRY but i am only HALF welsh . It was Llewellyn who had an army. SORRY END OF HISTORY LESSON,

  3. I cannot bite the day to the core- went straight to my 16 year old psyche in 1969 when I read the poet for my O levels. I’m 61 now, have had a bit of a hard life, and the poems have come to me as I have lived it. I feel the words in question are to do with Edward’ s melancholy. I was very tired in 1969, heading for burn out. My family never put pressure on me to do well, but we were so poor I felt I had to be the best and pull us out of poverty. I was very low, and felt happiness beyond reach, even appreciating nature and all it’s wonder and beauty. There was a fair bit of the obligatory teenage angst as well. So no, I don’t think Edward was going to religious imagery here, really he wasn’t. He was sad, quite simply. He couldn ‘ t get to the nub of happiness – only rwalised he was happy in retrospect. I saw this then and I see it now, albeit I first read that poem back then with no context of the man whatsoever. He has been my life companion. Thankfully I have never succumbed to full- blown depression, but I know it was the poet’s affliction.

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