The Old Astronomer to His Pupil

Many moons ago, a teacher friend gave me this poem framed for my birthday. Since I quoted it the other day, I thought I'd share the entire poem (sometimes called "The Astronomer") for those who are not familiar with Sarah Williams' work.

 The Old Astronomer to His Pupil by Sarah Williams

Reach me down my Tycho Brahe, --  I would know him when we meet,
 When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;
 He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how
 We are working to completion, working on from then till now.

 Pray, remember, that I leave you all my theory complete,
 Lacking only certain data, for your adding as is meet;
 And remember, men will scorn it, 'tis original and true,
 And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.

 But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learnt the worth of scorn;
 You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn;
 What, for us, are all distractions of men's fellowship and smiles?
 What, for us, the goddess Pleasure, with her meretricious wiles?

 You may tell that German college that their honour comes too late.
 But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant's fate;
 Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
 I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.

 What, my boy, you are not weeping?  You should save your eyes for sight;
 You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.
 I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.
 You "have none but me," you murmur, and I "leave you quite alone"?

 Well then, kiss me, -- since my mother left her blessing on my brow,
 There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;
 I can dimly comprehend it, -- that I might have been more kind,
 Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.

 I "have never failed in kindness"?  No, we lived too high for strife, --
 Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;
 But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you still
 To the service of our science: you will further it? you will!

 There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,
 To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;
 And remember, "Patience, Patience," is the watchword of a sage,
 Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.

 I have sworn, like Tycho Brahe, that a greater man may reap;
 But if none should do my reaping, 'twill disturb me in my sleep.
 So be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;
 See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.

 I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;
 Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:
 It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars, --
 God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.

 (published in 1868)

The Cows at Night

I know lots of poets, but I had never heard of the poet Hayden Carruth until someone shared his work on Facebook. In case you have never heard of him too, I wanted to share his poem "The Cows at Night."

The Cows At Night by Hayden Carruth
 

The moon was like a full cup tonight,
too heavy, and sank in the mist
soon after dark, leaving for light

faint stars and the silver leaves
of milkweed beside the road,
gleaming before my car.

Yet I like driving at night
in summer and in Vermont:
the brown road through the mist

of mountain-dark, among farms
so quiet, and the roadside willows
opening out where I saw

the cows. Always a shock
to remember them there, those
great breathings close in the dark.

I stopped, and took my flashlight
to the pasture fence. They turned
to me where they lay, sad

and beautiful faces in the dark,
and I counted them–forty
near and far in the pasture,

turning to me, sad and beautiful
like girls very long ago
who were innocent, and sad

because they were innocent,
and beautiful because they were
sad. I switched off my light.

But I did not want to go,
not yet, nor knew what to do
if I should stay, for how

in that great darkness could I explain
anything, anything at all.
I stood by the fence. And then

very gently it began to rain.