Going and Staying

[John]

I

The moving sun-shapes on the spray,
The sparkles where the brook was flowing,
Pink faces, plightings, moonlit May,
These were the things we wished would stay;
But they were going.

II

Seasons of blankness as of snow,
The silent bleed of a world decaying,
The moan of multitudes in woe,
These were the things we wished would go;
But they were staying.

III

Then we looked closelier at Time,
And saw his ghostly arms revolving
To sweep off woeful things with prime,
Things sinister with things sublime
Alike dissolving.

[John]

This remarkable poem was published in 1922 in Hardy’s Late Lyrics and Earlier.

He thought it would be his last book because he was 82 years old. But he did go on to publish two more collections in the six years he had remaining.

Of all of his poetry collections, he wrote the longest preface for this one and entitled it Apology. I have read it several times and it is not easy to understand. He seems to want to write his theory of poetry, but I must say it was not easy to decipher. He seems to be meditating on the fact that there are poems old and new, somber and joyous, and it is just the way he goes about writing and then collecting it all for one book. He also writes of a necessary nexus of poetry, literature, religion, and rationality. Whew, he draws in a huge sphere that hardly has bounds.

Here is a nice quote from it: I believe that those readers who care for my poems at all — readers to whom no passport is required — will care for this new installment of them, perhaps the last, as much as for any that have preceded them.

Although he entitled this preface Apology, no apology was needed. This poem is a superb meditation on things good and bad, sublime and ugly — and they all are treated the same way by Time. We may get caught up in the sublime, recoil at ugliness, but in the end Time sweeps them away just the same.

[Bionic Jean, Moderator]

John wrote: "He thought it would be his last book because he was 82 years old. But he did go on to publish two more collections in the six years he had remaining ..."

That is amazing isn't it? Thanks for this one, John, and the information. It's now linked to our list.

[Bionic Jean, Moderator]

You're right, it's not a simple poem to decipher, although it is very elegant. I think Thomas Hardy is exploring one of his favourite themes here: the fleeting nature of joy and the enduring presence of sorrow. We recognise this in both Tess of the D’Urbervilles (view spoiler)[the tragic fate of a young woman in a harsh society (hide spoiler)] and The Mayor of Casterbridge, where he examines (view spoiler)[the consequences of a man's past mistakes (hide spoiler)].

I do like the simple and evocative imagery. The "moving sun-shapes" and "sparkles" of the first stanza contrast with the "blankness" and "bleeding" of the second. But it is sad that at 82 years old, Thomas Hardy was so pessimistic. I also wonder if the title was partly self-reflective, and referring to his own existence as part of nature.

[Greg]

I guess there is a tiny bit of optimism in the last stanza that time sweeps away both the sinister and the sublime things?

It reminds me a little of that line in An Elegy In A Country Churchyard: And Ode On A Distant Prospect Of Eton College where the humility of the people's lives "Their lot forbade: nor circumscrib'd alone / Their growing virtues, but their crimes confin'd." Yes, their obscurity and poverty checked what great deeds they might have done, but it also checked their wicked deeds.

Here as John says, time is an impartial check on mankind.

Things sinister with things sublime
Alike dissolving

What is sublime must pass, but thankfully, what is sinister must pass too. So time restricts the scope of both. I suppose that during bad times or during catastrophies enacted by human folly, that might be a comfort. At least the cruel cannot go on doing harm forever.

At the moment, I find that comforting.

[John]

If you have a copy of Late Lyrics and read the Apology, you can tell that he believed this was his last work. I’m sure it was natural to him to feel this way — he even remarks that he was writing in the Victorian Age and now has been around long enough to be able to quote Albert Einstein.

Hardy’s creative longevity itself is remarkable, but even more so, he had an innate understanding of the eras in which he wrote. One only has to look at the sardonic Great War poems to realize he comprehended Modernism as well as Philip Larkin or Ted Hughes.

As Greg did, I do find some level of comfort with this poem.

[Sara]

I also can see the comforting side of this poem. I also think he is talking about perception. Good times seem to speed by us, hard and sorrowful times seem to linger indefinitely. We can almost miss the daily joys, but when we experience loss or great sorrow, it seems to stay with us tainting our days.

Although he entitled this preface Apology, no apology was needed.

I wonder if he had in mind the Greek meaning for apology. A defense, rather than an acknowledgement of guilt; a kind of justification of his beliefs or his methods of writing poetry. I might not be explaining my thoughts very well, so this might not make sense to anyone except me.

[Werner]

Sara, when I read that Apology, I took the word in its original Greek sense also!

[John]

I think you both are correct. The original Greek meaning aligns apology with “explanation.”

Though I must admit when I read it — several times now — it sounds rather defensive. Almost like half an apology and half an explanation.