Poem of the Week 4/7/2008: The Third Century

The Third Century

The corn was orient and immortal wheat, which
never should be reaped, nor was ever sown. I

thought it had stood from everlasting to everlasting.

The dust and stones of the street were as precious

as gold : the gates were at first the end of the world.

The green trees when I saw them first through one

of the gates transported and ravished me, their

sweetness and unusual beauty made my heart to 

leap, and almost mad with ecstasy, they were such 

strange and wonderful things. The Men ! O what

venerable and reverend creatures did the aged

seem ! Immortal Cherubims !    And young men

glittering and sparkling Angels, and maids strange

seraphic pieces of life and beauty ! Boys and girls

tumbling in the street, and playing, were moving

jewels. I knew not that they were born or should

die ; But all things abided eternally as they were in

their proper places. Eternity was manifest in the 

Light of the Day, and something infinite behind

everything appeared : which talked with my

expectation and moved my desire.  The city seemed

to stand in Eden, or to be built in Heaven. The 

street were mine, the temple was mine, the people

were mine, their clothes and gold and silver were

mine, as much as their sparkling eyes, fair skins and

ruddy faces.    The skies were mine, and so were the

sun and moon and stars, and all the World was

mine ; and I the only spectator and enjoyer of it.

I knew no churlish properties, nor bounds, nor

divisions : but all properties and divisions were

mine : all treasures and the possessors of them. So

that with much ado I was corrupted, and made to 

learn the dirty devices of this world. Which now I 

unlearn, and become, as it were, a little child again

that I may enter into the Kingdom of God.

Thomas Traherne, from Centuries of Meditation

Though technically "prose," this work by Thomas Traherne stands in my "Poetry is right language" category. For it is certainly some of the most marvelous and remarkable language I have ever come across, at once simple and shining, as hard cut and as glittering as a gem. I steal that image from this "century." A Metaphysical poet, Traherne was most primarily a pastor and member of several holy orders in England in the mid to late 17th Century. I suppose it is unnecessary to write too much about this passage, for it stands as something to be slowly savored and tasted. However, it might be fruitful to think about the way the state of childhood works in this poem, and how it might open up into a much greater redemptive state; what is childhood, and why is it connected with the divine, the infinite? How is Traherne entering the Kingdom of Heaven now, though this childlike state? Happy reading.