Blind love is not deaf
It hears all
The truth pleads for her
Tag: Dickens
Charles Dickens
I’ve had a lot of heroines
And heroes, that’s for sure:
But I think I will mention one
Who will, no doubt, endure
For Charles Dickens is one such
Although it’s strange to say:
His view of life’s now quite antique
And certainly passé
But yet I find among his words
And stories something true:
The good and ugly in this life
Are mixed up
Through
And through
(this.)
To share is human:
A Carton of Memories
An Extreme Tale
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” — Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities
When was the last time that sentence accurately described your life?
I was only fourteen and
Was suffering in grade nine
A lonely frightened freshman
Seeking then to redefine
Myself into a man or maybe
A grown boy, at least;
In spite of my best efforts
I was much less man than beast
And it was in my English class
That Ms. Hornbuckle taught
That we began to read a book
I grew to like a lot
And by about, oh, halfway through
A lifelong love was set:
For I was reading Dickens
And I haven’t finished yet
The bloody revolution off in France
Where it took place;
It took my from my worries
Back through time, and at a pace
Breathtaking in its drama. And
When we approached the end
The pattern had emerged, and I
Began to read again
This wondrous book, so full of hate
And love, and so much more:
It was a far, far better book
Than I had read before
So I had found in Dickens
Much to reread and to savor –
And though no Sydney Carton
Might have been
Just a touch
Braver
To share is human:
Mrs Jellyby
For your concerns are global
You can’t stop for the mundane;
Your motives pure and noble,
So I know you cannot deign
To fool with the prosaic.
All modernity forbids —
To do a thing archaic
Like take care of your own kids
To share is human:
Dickensian
It’s ineluctable to find
That some of academic mind
Will venture to apostrophize
Some long-dead artist they despise
For being what they never could
Both interesting, and really good:
The small, asserting with their pen
What they think greatness
Should have been
To share is human:
Classical Conundrum
At night I’ll read
When I am lost
And cannot get
A moment’s rest
My mind I’ll feed
While trouble-tossed
And find there, yet
The minutes blessed
And, funny how
I read along
Enthralled clean through
My beating heart
That only now
When I’m not strong
Do I turn to
Great works of art
