I have been asking people to name their favorite poems; to be more specific the poem which, if one was ship wrecked on a desert island, one would recite to oneself as the sun goes down. Here is mine. It is an anonymous poem, which I found when I was young in volume one of a five volume anthology English verse. To the best of my knowledge, it has aroused the enthusiasm of nobody else, but it has always be one of those theraputic poems for me, in times of adversity, melancholy or even joy.
I heard a noise and wished for a sight,
I looke for life and did a shadow see
Whose substance was the sum of my delight,
Which came unseen and so did go from me.
Yet hath conceit persuaded my content
There was a substance where the shadow went.
I did not play Narcissus in conceit,
I did not see my shadow in a spring:
I saw the shadow of some worthy thing:
For as I saw the shadow glancing by,
I had a glimpse of something in mine eye.
But what it was, alas, I cannot tell,
Because of it I had no perfect view:
But as it was, by guess I wish it well
And will until I see the same anew.
Shadow or she or both or choose you whither:
Blest be the thing that brought the shadow hither.
A big, furry bumble bee announces Spring in the garden.
Through the open sash window of a basement flat, I see a pair of walking boots and a vase of tulips on the floor.