Micah, my youngest son, and I are once again this year recording poems for National Poetry Month. In an effort to read and record poets that are new to us, or at least whose work we have not yet read out loud, we are both picking a different poem each week of April and sharing it with you. From Shakespeare’s time to Shelley’s, to some living poets of today, follow us and read along. We’d be tickled to hear that we’ve introduced you to a new favorite.
Last week, Micah chose a little-known (who should be more well-known!) lady poet from the 1600s and this week I have recorded the following gem, published in 1920 by the delightfully fierce Natalie Barney
The story goes that she met Oscar Wilde when she was 12 years old, and that experience changed her life, partly because of the influence Wilde had in her mother returning to her own art after her wealthy husband had earlier dissuaded her. The article goes on to say that her first love was a summer fling with Eva Palmer. She had studied in Paris and would return, eventually founding a popular salon there for artists. Learn more about this early feminist and artistic trailblazer by reading the entire, fascinating article in Headstuff.org.
The image below was painted by Natalie’s mother when the young poet was 20 years old. You can enjoy more of Natalie’s work from her book Poems & Poèmes, preserved online by the Guttenberg Project.
Ah! habit, how unmusical and shy
That outworn miracle: our ecstacy!
Between our hands that clasp their empty palms,
This daily prayer is this our psalm of psalms!
What is this nothing that was more than all?
Thinned as a golden ring that dare not fall,
That unsuspected danger: faithfulness,
Has linked us strangers, and a something less!
Exchanging vows and other platitudes,
As beggars chained in separate solitudes,
Though jealousy keep live the rotten core,
Lovers that were be lovers nevermore.