Now is just as good a time as anytime to memorize a poem. And, we all should. Great for young people. Even better than Tai Chi for old people.

Actually, I was thinking of calling this post "The Unattended Garden" which has a nice ring to it, and is factual. But tonight I thought poetry should take precedence. (The photos, however, are of the unattended garden, which actually looks ready to provide quite a bountiful crop of squash and beets.)

But, anyway.

Memorizing poetry was at one time considered an important part of pedagogy. That idea faded in the glare of the technological revoulution; but, recently, those in the know have begun to remind us of the benefits.

"Memorize a poem. Find your kindred spirits across the centuries so that — as W. H. Auden counseled — you might, 'composed like them/Of Eros and of dust,/Beleaguered by the same/Negation and despair, /Show an affirming flame.'”

So here's the deal: anyone who reads this blog (and the Force be with you if you do) and everyone else within that sphere of influence (of any age), shall commit to memorizing a poem—haiku okay, but preferably something of more than a few stanzas. Below is the one I'm working on (and about halfway there).

Then, at various times, whenever in company assembled: recitations.

Any poem is fine, or this one, or any of those I will post in future blogs.

I know the piece below is by Edgar Guest, and a bit on the trite and schmaltzy side, but for this purpose, ALMOST anything goes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It Couldn't Be Done

Edgar Albert Guest

Somebody said that it couldn't be done
But he with a chuckle replied
That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one
Who wouldn't say so till he tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it!

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that;
At least no one ever has done it;"
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat
And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
That couldn't be done, and he did it.

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure,
There are thousands to point out to you one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing
That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.