An Idyll of Virtue

An Idyll of Virtue

When Virtue grows weary within and is old

And all signs of her youth disappear

You will note how the sky will seem paler and cold

And how autumn seems eerily near

When alas she departs and slips into night                      

You will note how the maples are bare

When her voice isn’t heard and when gone is her light

You will know then that winter is here

-jwm

Of the Poem

An Idyll of Virtue is a tragic cautionary poem about the decline of moral propriety within an individual, or a group of individuals, or even a nation.

Modeled on Theocritus’ (270 BC) ten pastoral poems, an idyll is a pastoral work that meditates upon themes revolving around nature, rural existence, the seasons, and other such agrarian topics. The word itself comes from the Greek word eidyllion (ειδύλλιο), meaning ‘little picture’ or ‘short poem’.

The title of the poem is a play on words, where idyll serves as an allusion to ‘idleness’- indicating therefore an idleness with regard to a virtuous disposition.

The pastoral elements that I draw upon are the environmental changes that are emerging as a result of seasonal changes from autumn to winter- where autumn is contrasted with old age (propriety in decline), and winter is contrasted with death (a state of being morally reprobate).

I was hoping in this particular work to represent Virtue’s old age as a sort of process of desolation, and to compound that representation with autumn- a season where blue skies are made deathly pale, and all of the green foliage begins to wither away as winter’s desolation swallows everything up.

When our conscience ceases to call, and when we are no longer guided by truths (‘when her voice isn’t heard and when gone is her light’) it is a grim sign of moral and spiritual privation (i.e. winter), so the poem warns.

It is said that we are governed by the principles we assume. I wrote this poem as a sort of reminder to be diligent with regard to the kind of person I want to be, to hold on to principles that are pleasing to the Lord, that are useful to my neighbor, and that are edifying to me.

Poetic Parameters

Stanza Type: Quatrain

Meter: The first line of each stanza contains eleven syllables; the second and fourth lines of each stanza contains nine syllables; and the third line of each contains twelve syllables. 

Rhyme Scheme: abab cbcb

Composition: February 5th, 2019

An Autumn Ballad

There's this stage during autumn where, after most of the leaves have fallen and have littered the streets and patios, where Indian summer is a distant memory, and summer barely a memory at all, where an almost imperceptible chill in the air lingers over everything, and tacitly hints at winter's approach.

During this time, and during the orange autumn evenings that this time produces, I always feel a sort of peacefulness that seems to shroud everything in view, as if the sacred presence of antiquity visited earth once again … a very beautiful time of the year.

A coldness in the air also begins to emerge, almost unnoticeable at first, and for me, thankfully so. Not that I have anything at all against winter, but during such a beautiful time of year one wishes winter to be delayed for the time being.

It is of this first vague perception of winter, expressed through the gradual emergence of coldness in the environment, that this poem is about. It is about autumn slumbering away as winter's awakening transpires.

Hope you enjoy ...

Autumn Sleeps

Beneath the naked maple boughs
Astir the autumn leaves
They rustle as the north winds rouse
And swirl below the eaves

Within this swirling there's a dance
Where dying loam gives way
And fills with musk the cold expanse
That hangs upon the day

So too the chimes that gently ring
That fain would autumn keep
Alas! the north winds through them sing
Of autumn's coming sleep

-jwm

Of the Poem (Parameters):

Stanza: Four quatrains in the form of a ballad
 
Meter: First and second line of each stanza are in iambic tetrameter (that is, eight syllables per line); the second and fourth,  iambic trimeter (six syllables per line)

Rhyme scheme: alternating, i.e. abab per stanza

Thank you for coming by and visiting my page. 

Winter Cometh

Emily Bronte is among one of the very first female poets that I came to know, and a poet that I deeply respect (The Old Stoic, a delightful little poem about the desire to live in freedom, was the first poem of hers I read). 194 years ago on this day she was born, and so I thought I’d browse some of her works, and perhaps post one of them here … hence today’s post.

'Fall, Leaves, Fall'

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;

Lengthen night and shorten day;

Every leaf speaks bliss to me

Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow

Blossom where the rose should grow;

I shall sing when night's decay

Ushers in a drearier day.

Of the Poem:

On a superficial level this poem speaks of the poet’s delight in the coming winter, where the nights are longer and snow and ‘drearier’ days shroud the landscape. It is within the midst of an autumn that the poet happily anticipates, like myself at times, the cold and snowy months to come: Every leaf speaks bliss to me / Fluttering from the autumn tree.

But one other possible meaning, a bleaker meaning, weaved tacitly through the poem, may exist.

Little is known about the last two years of Bronte's life, but what is known is that in October of 1848 her health began to falter drastically. Her brother, in the month to follow, would succumb to tuberculosis. It’s said that she was also afflicted by the illness, and that she refused all medical attention (for reasons I’m still not quite clear on) until finally, on December 19th of the same year, she would succumb to her afflictions as well.

Often in the past people have used the seasons as symbols for the diverse stages of life- spring symbolizing birth, summer adolescence, autumn late adulthood, and winter old age and death. It’s obvious that the poem is referring to a desire for winter to come (interestingly, she doesn’t ever use the word ‘winter’ at all).

Is it possible that Bronte wrote this poem indicating a desire to move on from life to death? Is it possible that her illness was too much to endure, or that her brother’s decline and death affected her terribly, or that she wanted to be ‘released’ from the crippling onslaught of so cruel a disease?

It’s just a curious thought, and I’m by no means indicating that our poet was suicidal- far from it! My own guess is this … if this poem was composed during those obscure last years, then the likeliness that it was a cryptic work referring to a desire to die is at least there; if it was composed within the last few months of her life, I’m persuaded on the point. I don’t know … you tell me. 

Happy date of birth, dearest poet ... you're remembered.

Leaves of Scarlet

Rilke’s Winter’s in my breast
Milton’s happy Summer’s gone
Black’s the bough that’s bare of leaves
Leaves of scarlet on my lawn

-jwm

Autumn Tree

I felt ashamed, O Autumn tree
Your cinders falling to the ground
I thought them falling deathward, see
But now I know they’re heaven bound

-jwm

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