The enjoyment of poetry

Poetry is something I have enjoyed all my life—poems done by the national/international masters and local or state poets. There always seemed to be a freshness of a new poem that felt good as I read it. Like everything else some poets make worldwide names for themselves: James Whitcomb Riley, Eugene Field, Clement C. Moore and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, to name just a few. I have long enjoyed their work.
A number of local, yes and far lesser known, poets come forth every day hoping to have the success of those listed above. Most never get beyond writing verse for themselves, their family and friends, or perhaps being published in the local newspaper or magazine. Nonetheless I have found myself reading and enjoying many of these local poets. Over these past dozen or so years I have published a few local works as part of my column. However, I don’t believe any have ever appeared in the Northeast News. Perhaps someday I’ll change that.

But for today I choose to stay with the masters. I was given a copy of an old weekly newspaper from the early 1980’s. This paper comes from a small, rural village, not unlike small rural villages across this land. The newspaper is as those found in many of these villages as they all have a sameness, yet a freshness as well. The village, town, county or state seems to matter little, but these small but important papers stand out.
In “The Book Bank” November 29, 1982, which I hold in my hand, some four pages of this 24-page issue are devoted to poetry. One of these pages has a few poems penned years ago by Eugene Field. I read them all with pleasure and they brought a smile to my face as I read. One of those, “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod” I well remember from my childhood. I hope you do as well.
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod
“Wynken, Blynken and Nod, one night/Sailed off in a wooden shoe,—/Sailed on a river of crystal light/Into a sea of dew,/’Where are you going, and what do you wish?’/The old moon asked the three./’We have come to fish for the herring fish/That live in this beautiful sea,/ Nets of silver and gold have we!’/Said Wynken, Blynken and Nod.
“The old moon laughed and sang a song,/ As they rocked in the wooden shoe;/And the wind that sped them all night long/Ruffled the waves of dew./The little stars were the herring fish/That lived in that beautiful sea—/’Now cast your nets wherever you wish,—/Never afeard are we!’/So cried the stars of the fishermen three, Wynken, Blynken, And Nod.
All night long their nets they threw/To the stars in the twinkling foam,—/Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,/Bringing the fishermen home:/Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed/As if it could not be;/And some folk thought twas a dream they’d dreamed/Of sailing that beautiful sea;/But I shall name you the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken and Nod.
Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,/And Nod is a little head,/And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies/Is a wee one’s trundle-bed;/So shut your eyes while Mother sings/Of wonderful sights that be,/And you shall see the beautiful things/As you rock in the misty sea/Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:—Wynken, Blynken And Nod.”
Such are the people, places and things that have touched my life in my West Virginia home!
Don Springer can be reached at touchlife@worldnet.att.net.