by G. K. Chesterton
There is a heart within a distant town
Who loves me more than treasure or renown
Think you it strange and wear it as a crown.
Is not the marvel here; that since the kiss
And dizzy glories of that blinding bliss
One grief has ever touched me after this.
* * *
I meant to blog this on Wednesday. I was going to make it up to Chesterton for not celebrating his birthday by celebrating him on my own birthday. But my birthday was too busy, and yesterday Blogger didn't feel like cooperating. So here is a nice little love poem of his. He wrote this for Frances before he met her.
I think, looking back at his life, Chesterton would have considered winning Frances's heart the greatest achievement of his life. He was a success at so many things, but that was the one thing he seemed to care about the most.
Happy belated birthday, G.K.C!
1 comment:
It's hard to believe how powerful a total of 50 words in six lines can be. And how moving.
This is a sterling example of a principle my mother taught me: Every authentic love poem/song applies equally to one's beloved or to God.
Obviously, we must overlook those which don't transcend mere enumerations of, uh, eye or hair color, though GKC does state that "The greatest of poems is an inventory." [Orthodoxy CW1: 267] Hmm: a challenge: try satisfying both at once! Perhaps our friend at "Red Rock" is getting there with his "Sonnet Sequence"...
Oh, yes, one more thing: - a happy belated birthday to you, dear "Enchiridion"!!!
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