« Send them home, to think again! | Main | Finally Comes the Poet: We have only the Word, but the Word will do »

April 02, 2009

Comments

Rosemary Hannah

The sweated blood of the agony in the garden fits very well with the poem - but for Herbert the last supper, the garden, the crucifixion and indeed the Garden again all interlock. He never says one thing if he can say ten. No poet does of course, but the metaphysicals especially so.


Herbert has an extraordinary ability to cat leap the theological ditches of his time. One of course is this matter of reality of the communion. I always admire his approach to receiving communion - that those who chose to do it kneeling spoke to the majesty of God and those who did it seated, to that origination of the supper as a meal.

Ruth Gouldbourne

That last couplet gets me every time. I fell in love with Herbert (and Donne) as a student, and they have remained points of nourishnment ever since. Thanks for this when I am far from home.

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