On My First Sonne - Ben Johnson

This outpouring of a father's grief on the death of his young son, although written almost four hundred years ago, is so poignant that we can easily identify with the poet's experience.

The fact that the poem was written several hundred years ago means that the language is not always particularly easy to understand. We know from the title that the child that has died was the poet's first-born son, so losing him must have been an especially painful experience. The first line tells us that Johnson considered him to be the child of his 'right hand', signifying the importance of the role that the child would have played had he grown older. The second line reveals the idea that the poet had enormous hopes of his son. We begin to sense how religious a person Johnson was as he expresses the notion that having such great hopes was actually a sin.

The following line continues the religious theme, as Johnson considers that his son was actually lent to him by God: 'Seven yeeres tho'wert lent to me,' and we now know that the child died at the age of seven. Johnson thus believes that all life is a gift from God, and that he had to give his child back to God at this tender age. In line 5 Johnson pours out his grief in the phrase 'O, could I loose all father', wishing that he did not have to take on the role of a father who loves his son so dearly, because it is so painful to mourn a child. However, the poet then goes on to say 'For why / Will man lament the state he should envie?' meaning that it is strange to grieve over death, as death is something to be envied, something to look forward to. He explains this feeling in line 7 when he says that death is an escape from 'worlds, and fleshes rage', an escape from the turmoil and anger that we encounter throughout our lives. Then in line 8 Johnson says that even if there are no problems in life, death is at least an escape from age, in other words old age.

'Rest in soft peace' is a gentler version of the usual 'Rest in peace' that is inscribed on tombstones, expressing very tender feelings for a young child. Johnson goes on to say that if anyone were to ask who was buried in that grave, the answer should be that it is Ben Johnson's 'best piece of poetrie': the best thing that he ever created, better in actual fact than any of his poems. Johnson concludes his poem by making a vow that whatever or whoever he loves he will not become too attached to in future: 'may never like too much', meaning that he would not find it so painful to lose another person if he remained more detached from them. At that time in history of course infant deaths were far more common than they are now, and Johnson must have feared that if he were to have more children they too might not reach adulthood.

This is a concise twelve-line poem with six pairs of rhyming couplets. The middle section, from line 5, is the most emotional one, but Johnson tries to be philosophical about his grief, seeing death as an escape from a troubled world. A calmer atmosphere pervades in the last four lines, where the poet is in positive mood, seeing his son as his finest creation. We know from the final line that he never wishes to feel such intense pain again if another family member were to die. Here is the full text of the poem:

On my first Sonne

Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy;

My sinne was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy;

Seven yeeres tho' wert lent to me, and I thee pay,

Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.

Oh, I could loose all father, now. For why

Will man lament the state he should envie?

To have so soone scap'd worlds, and fleshes rage.

And, if no other miserie, yet age?

Rest in soft peace, and ask'd, say here doth lye

Ben. Johnson his best piece of poetrie.

For whose sake, hence-forth, all his vowes be such,

As what he loves may never like too much.

Ben Johnson

1616

Tichborne's Elegy - Chidiock Tichborne

Composed the night before his execution, Tichborne's Elegy piles metaphor upon metaphor to express his regret and frustration upon his life being cut short whilst he is still in his prime. He was only twenty-eight years old at the time, but was sentenced to death because he had been involved in a conspiracy to assassinate Queen Elizabeth I. Written in the first person, almost every line begins with the word 'I' or 'My', showing us how self-absorbed the poet was in his last hours.

The poem comprises three stanzas, each of six lines. The word 'but', appearing in each of the first four lines, might be translated as 'just' in contemporary English. The first line tells us that although the poet is young, his life is a 'frost', cold and joyless, and full of worries because of his actions and his impending death. The following line refers again to his life, or his youth, which should have been the most fulfilling period but instead is 'a dish of pain', a time that is hard to bear. Then there is an agricultural metaphor, in which the poet expresses the fact that his 'crop of corn' has actually yielded a field of weeds (tares), meaning that nothing worthwhile has resulted from his short life. Line 4 explains that the only way the poet has benefited from his life is in hoping to make an achievement, but he has not in fact done so. The following line begins 'The day is past', a metaphor meaning that the poet's life has ended, and concludes 'and yet I saw no sun' – nothing worthwhile or advantageous has resulted from his life. The final line of the first stanza is identical to the last line of the second and third stanzas, emphasizing the fact that although the poet is alive at the actual time of composing the poem, he knows that his life has virtually come to an end.

The second stanza continues the pattern of metaphors, 'My tale was heard' meaning that the poet has had a life, 'and yet it was not told' expressing the frustration that his life was not lived to the full. Tichborne then compares his life to a tree, where the fruit has ripened and fallen to the ground, because his life is about to end; but 'my leaves are green' tells us that he is still young. This same idea is clearly conveyed in line 9, and line 10 expresses the concept that although the poet 'saw the world', because he was born, he 'was not seen', as nothing positive has come of his short life. Another metaphor follows, 'My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun' telling us that his life is ending even though he has not lived it out. The stanza concludes in exactly the same way as the first one.

The opening of the third and final stanza shows us the the poet considers that he was doomed even before he was born, and that as his life progressed he sensed it was to be cut short. He feels that his life has only just begun and yet it is about to end. Line 17 is a metaphor centred around the image of an hourglass, a little device like an egg-timer through which sand runs from top to bottom in the space of a few minutes. Tichborne knows that because of his youth he should have years of his life left, but his 'glass is run', meaning that the sand has all passed through and his time on earth has run out. Once again, the final line is exactly like that of the first two stanzas.

The poem is regular in its rhythm and rhyme scheme; the repetition or similarity in the structure of many of the lines is offset by the abundant use of metaphors which are the highlight of this work. The poet focusses purely on his own situation here and there is no reference at all to loved ones he is leaving behind or to his fellow conspirators.

'Tichborne's Elegy' is a fine poem full of metaphorical imagery. There is perhaps an element of irony in that the poet expresses the idea that he has achieved nothing in his short life, and yet he composed a masterpiece on the eve of his execution. His frustration and deep regret in fact inspired him to do so; to create such a poem when he must have been in the depths of despair is to be wondered at.

Here is the full text of the poem:

My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,

My feast of joy is but a dish of pain;

My crop of corn is but a field of tares,

And all my good is but vain hope of gain.

The day is past, and yet I saw no sun;

And now I live, and now my life is done.

My tale was heard, and yet it was not told,

My fruit is fallen, and yet my leaves are green;

My youth is spent, and yet I am not old,

I saw the world, and yet I was not seen.

My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun;

And now I live, and now my life is done.

I sought my death, and found it in my womb,

I looked for life and saw it was a shade;

I trod the earth, and knew it was my tomb,

And now I die, and now I was but made.

My glass is full, and now my glass is run;

And now I live, and now my life is done.

Chidiock Tichborne

1586

Shakespeare - Sonnet 130

The opening line of Shakespeare's Sonnet 130 is a surprising simile: 'My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun'. We might normally expect poets, especially those of Shakespeare's time, to praise the women they love by telling us that their eyes do shine like the sun. But a writer of Shakespeare's calibre is not going to follow the herd and make exaggerated comparisons; here he is describing reality.

Over the next few lines Shakespeare continues to describe his mistress in terms of the senses of sight, smell, sound and touch, but there is no flattery here. Colours are focused on first: 'Coral is far more red than her lips' red' tells us that lips are not naturally a bright red colour. Pale skin would have been sought after, but Shakespeare's mistress had dun-coloured breasts, dun being quite a dark colour. It seems that she did not have soft, sleek hair, as in line four it is compared to wire. Shakespeare relates that he has seen beautiful two-toned or 'damasked' roses, but that there is no rosiness in his mistress' cheeks.

The poet is quite forthright in telling us that his mistress has bad breath; in fact it 'reeks', and there is no hint of perfume. Line nine gives the first compliment: 'I love to hear her speak', but Shakespeare admits in the following line that he would actually prefer music to her voice. In line eleven Shakespeare implies that the way his mistress moves could not be compared to a goddess, and he goes on to say 'My mistress when she walks treads upon the ground', creating the impression that she is heavy-footed.

Sonnet 130 follows that usual structure of the Shakespearean sonnet, with the last two lines being a rhyming couplet, indented. This change marks a change in content too: Shakespeare says that in spite of all the defects, he genuinely loves his mistress: 'I think my love as rare / As any she belied with false compare.' Appearances are not what matter where true love is concerned.

The poem is written in iambic pentameter, or lines of ten syllables with the stress on every second syllable. ('Coral' in line two does not quite fit into this pattern.) The rhyme scheme is ababcdcdefefgg, the usual pattern for a Shakespearean sonnet. The structure, then, conforms, but it is the content of the sonnet that is unusual. It is refreshing to read a love poem that is frank and honest rather than following meaningless traditions.

What were they like?

An English poet who moved to New York as a young adult, Denise Levertov voices her opposition to the USA's role in the Vietnam War in her poem 'What Were They Like?' The poem is presented in a particularly unusual way, where the first stanza consists of a series of numbered questions asking about certain aspects of the Vietnamese people's way of life. The second stanza gives answers to each of these questions, and they are also numbered so that it is easy to tell which reply relates to which question.

The fact that the questions in the first stanza are all in the past tense immediately leads us to feel that this race of people has now died out. Four of the questions repeat the opening phrase 'Did they...?' The tone of the questions conveys a sense that these were people who were gentle and close to nature. The second question, for example, asks 'Did they hold ceremonies / to reverence the opening of buds?' This question gives the impression that worship was an important part of their lives, and that they respected nature, realising that the growth of new plants and flowers was a precious sign of life. The third question asks 'Were they inclined to quiet laughter?' This paints a picture of people who understood joy but experienced it in a peaceful way. The fourth question asks if they used the natural elements of bone, ivory, jade and silver for decoration, implying that they loved natural beauty. The two final questions concern poetry, 'speech and singing', wondering if they had an 'epic poem' and also if they perhaps felt that speaking and singing were essentially one and the same.

The very first question in stanza one asks if 'the people of Viet Nam / used lanterns of stone', stone again being a natural substance. As we begin to read the answers to the questions in stanza two, we soon sense a difference in tone as the first line tells us 'Sir, their light hearts turned to stone.' This is not of course a direct answer to the question, but underlines the ideas of the first stanza, where it is suggested that these people appreciated joy and 'quiet laughter'. 'Turned to stone', on the other hand, tells us that their joy was wiped out, and their hearts became heavy. The next line, still answering the first question but now more directly, begins 'It is not remembered...' This phrase, repeated in the reply to the fifth question, creates a feeling that much of the knowledge of the Vietnamese people has been lost. No-one knows whether 'stone lanterns illumined pleasant ways'.

The answer to question two contains a poignant contrast of ideas. The fact that it begins with the word 'perhaps' reinforces the feeling that we cannot be certain of the traditions of a race of people that has been wiped out by war. The act of coming together to 'delight in blossom' is immediately followed by the harsh statement 'but after the children were killed / there were no more buds)'. No children, no buds, no life, no growth; what was there for these people to give thanks for in worship?

The third and fourth questions have replies that imply destruction by fire during the war. The answer to question three is the briefest one, telling us that 'laughter is bitter to the burned mouth.' Bitter can of course have two meanings: either a bitter taste, and here of course there is a reference to the mouth, or a bitter feeling, which is particularly poignant here, as the quiet laughter has transformed into appalling suffering. The reply to the fourth question begins 'A dream ago, perhaps,' reiterating the idea of uncertainty. It continues 'Ornament is for joy. / All the bones were charred,' leaving us in no doubt that there was no place for lightheartedness in the wake of the destruction of war.

The reply to the fifth question is the most detailed one, and also the one that bears the closest resemblance to the traditional concept of poetic description. It echoes the phrase 'It is not remembered' of the first answer, going on to say that most of the people were peasants who spent their lives 'in rice and bamboo'. They were cultivators, not destroyers. What follows is a descriptive image of 'peaceful clouds reflected in paddies', paddies being waterlogged fields where the rice was grown. Just as uncertainty was previously expressed by 'perhaps', here we have 'maybe': 'maybe fathers told their sons old tales'. The next two lines, however, are in sharp contrast once again, as these images or 'mirrors' were destroyed by bombing. This peaceful agricultural way of life was brought to an abrupt end, when 'there was time only to scream.'

The word scream is also in contrast to 'an echo yet / of their speech' at the start of the reply to the sixth and final question. Levertov uses a simile for their speech 'which was like a song', and the idea of joy is portrayed again. Their singing is compared to 'the flight of moths in the moonlight', creating the impression of delicateness and transitoriness. The final line of the poem presents one more question: 'Who can say?' emphasizing once more the uncertainty of the facts that are known about the people of Viet Nam. The poem ends with a brief sentence, 'It is silent now.' This is not a silence akin to that of the 'quiet laughter' of the third question, however. It is the silence of complete destruction, of a people that no longer exist.

We come away from this poem with a sense that the people being focused on here were gentle, peaceful folk who led a simple lifestyle close to nature; they had a strong sense of joy and delighted in creation and growth. The brutality of the way they were destroyed during the Vietnam War is brought home to us by the contrast of their quiet ways and the harsh reality of the bombing that wiped them out.

Half-Caste

Born in Guyana, South America, in 1949 to parents of mixed nationality, John Agard came to live in Britain in 1977. His poem 'Half-Caste' demonstrates the attitude of narrow-minded people that he must have encountered, who consider people of mixed parentage to be inferior to themselves. The poem is written in non-standard English, in other words in exactly the way that the poet, a non-native speaker, might speak and with the words spelled exactly as they would sound. Whilst contributing to the humour of the poem, it might be confusing for some readers.

The poem opens with a short, sharp three-line stanza in which Agard explains that he is standing on one leg because he is half-caste; it's as though he is saying 'What do you expect, if you consider me to be only half a person, then I would only have one leg.' The poet addresses the reader in a very direct way when he says, 'Explain yuself / wha yu mean / when yu say half-caste', taking the stance that the reader is one of the people who looks down on those of mixed nationality. His argumentative tone continues throughout the poem and emphasizes the fact that those he is addressing have no foundation for their attitude.

Besides the non-standard language itself, the imagery that the poet uses is very humorous and provides an interesting juxtaposition to the criticisms being levelled at certain people. In the second stanza, Agard takes very famous people, namely Picasso and Tchaikovsky (but doesn't give their names capital letters) and says, for example,

'when yu say half-caste

yu mean when picasso

mix red and green

is a half-caste canvas/'

The point he is making here is that Picasso used complementary opposite colours, red and green, but of course nobody questioned that because he was a genius. He was respected. Similarly,

'when yu say half-caste

yu mean tchaikovsky

sit down at dah piano

an mix a black key

wid a white key

is a half-caste symphony/'

This example is perhaps even more potent, since the black and white keys would seem a direct parallel to black and white people. It is obvious that a composer would use both black and white keys of a piano: nobody would question such a thing, so Agard's point is that people of mixed nationality, having one black parent and one white parent, should be accepted in the same way as Tchaikovsky's music is.

Agard further comments that the English weather 'nearly always half-caste' and extends the comparison with a humorous pun: 'in fact some o dem cloud / half-caste till dem overcast'. Giving us such obvious examples of mixtures and half-and-half combinations from culture and climate serves to show how ridiculous it is to look down upon people of mixed nationality.

In the third stanza the poet continues to use examples, this time relating to his own body, to show the absurdity of the concept of being 'half-caste'. He says he is looking at the reader with the 'keen half' of his ear and his eye, as though his ears and eyes would be split in half because he is of mixed parentage. He continues in humorous vein, going on to say that he would only offer 'half-a-hand' when being introduced to the person he is addressing, and that he just closes 'half-a-eye' and dreams 'half-a-dream' when asleep. Another witty play on words follows with the phrase 'I half-caste human being / cast half a shadow'.

The word 'but' in line 47 heralds the final section of the poem, in which Agard asks the reader to return the following day with the 'whole' of their eye, ear and mind; in other words, he is asking the people he is addressing to open up their minds to a new way of thinking. He is in effect accusing them of being the ones to have only half their minds functioning and half their ears listening to him: in other words, if anyone is half-caste, it is those who look upon him as being inferior. The poem ends in a similar way to that in which it began, with a brief, three-line stanza that simply says that Agard will tell people the other half, or other side, of his story if they will come back and listen to him with an open mind. An open mind will allow them to see him as the person he really is, rather than some inferior being.

The poem flows along through its four stanzas of varying length and lines also of varying length, unrestricted by punctuation; there are two forward slashes in the second stanza indicating a break or pause, but not one full-stop. Capital letters are also very few and far between, not being used, as I have mentioned for Picasso or Tchaikovsky. The lack of restrictions of regularity in terms of line length and stanza length, as well as sentence structure, indicate a desire for openness and freedom which suit the theme of the poem.

Agard likes to perform his poems, and it is easy to imagine how powerful a message could come across in this way. Even from reading it, we sense the forcefulness in the manner in which the poet is addressing those he is speaking to, and he would I am sure convey this even more directly in a performance. For those of us who do not have the chance to experience this, we can still sense how outraged he is by the idea that a person of mixed nationality is any less than anyone else, yet he captures our imagination with his imagery and entertains us with his humour to convince us to listen to his way of thinking.