Poetry Archives - Ambleside International https://amblesideschools.org/tag/poetry/ Wed, 09 Apr 2025 21:57:59 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.8.3 https://amblesideschools.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/cropped-Skylark-RGB-32x32.png Poetry Archives - Ambleside International https://amblesideschools.org/tag/poetry/ 32 32 213948178 “The Nightingale and the Rose” a tale by Oscar Wilde https://amblesideschools.org/the-nightingale-and-the-rose-a-tale-by-oscar-wilde/ Fri, 25 Aug 2023 21:54:03 +0000 https://amblesideschools.org/?p=1727 Charlotte Mason gives us a thoughtful vision to the significance and purpose of a ‘literature lesson’ to a child’s education. At Ambleside Schools, we believe as she does that ‘a child ‘gets moral notions’ from these stories.

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“The Nightingale and the Rose” a tale by Oscar Wilde

The Poet and the Essayist are our Teachers.––A child gets moral notions from the fairy-tales he delights in, as do his elders from tale and verse. So nice a critic as Matthew Arnold tells us that poetry is a criticism of life; so it is, both a criticism and an inspiration; and most of us carry in our minds tags of verse which shape our conduct more than we know;

 

“Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop
Than when we soar.” [Wordsworth.]

 

“The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel.” [Hamlet.]

 

A thousand thoughts that burn come to us on the wings of verse; and, conceive how our lives would be impoverished were we to awake one day and find that the Psalms had disappeared from the world and from the thoughts of men! Proverbs, too, the words of the wise king and the sayings of the common folk, come to us as if they were auguries; while the essayists deal with conduct and give much delicate instruction, which reaches us the more surely through the charm of their style.

 

… Literature is full of teaching, by precept and example, concerning the management of our physical nature.

~ Ourselves, Book 1

 

In these insightful ideas, Charlotte Mason gives us a thoughtful vision to the significance and purpose of a ‘literature lesson’ to a child’s education. At Ambleside Schools, we believe as she does that ‘a child ‘gets moral notions’ from these stories. When we reflect on the Holy Spirit’s working in our life, we can recall how a word or phrase, or passage may suddenly come to mind at any given time — often at ‘just the right moment.’ Quickly we recognize the voice of our Father in a Bible verse or the lines from a poem or hymn we learned long ago. Imagine when a child’s mind is full of these ‘moral notions’ acquired through attentive reading and listening, narration, and thoughtful discussion from living books. The mind becomes a storehouse of ideas that Holy Spirit may use to speak to and guide us when the time is just right.

 

Following is a lovely exam narration by an Ambleside Homeschooling 2nd grade student from the poignant story he listened to by Oscar Wilde, “The Nightingale and the Rose” with a note from the mother as she shared this with me. It is worth noting the many accurate details and the use of author’s language in this thorough retelling that demonstrate the child’s habit of attention and depth of engagement with the story and author (Author):

 

I’m sending this to you because I love that the Idea stuck with him! His sister, Sweet Savannah was weeping as we read this part. What a moving story:

 

“My roses are red,” said the tree, “as red as the great coral fans that wave beneath the ocean. As red as the sunrise and the sunset. But this winter the frost has chilled my branches and has nipped my leaves and I will bear no roses this year. But there is one way, but it is too terrible that I dare not tell it to you.”

 

“Tell it to me,” said the Nightingale, “I am not afraid.”

 

“You must pierce your heart with a rose and sing your sweetest song before the sunrise comes up.”

 

“That is a terrible price to pay,” said the Nightingale, “but I will do it for the sake of true love. Surely love is a wonderful thing. It cannot be bought in the balance for gold, nor be weighed out like oranges and apples. And you cannot give any gem for it, no matter how beautiful it is.”

 

And the holm oak tree said, “I will be sad without you, please sing me your sweetest song.”

 

And she sang her sweetest song for the oak and then went to the rose tree to press her heart against the thorn. So, she sang for a bit and then the flower started forming. The petals were pale.

 

“Press closer little nightingale,” said the tree, “or dawn will come before it is finished,” and she pressed closer and kept singing.

 

And a little tinge of crimson appeared on the outside of it. “Press closer, little nightingale, or dawn will come before it is finished!”

 

So, she kept singing and pressed closer. And she did that and then the time went by ‘til it was all crimson except for the very center, for only the heart’s blood of a nightingale would make the center of the rose fully crimson.

 

“Oh, do press closer, Nightingale, or dawn will come before it is finished. Because dawn is at the door.”

 

And she pressed still closer, and the thorn pierced her heart and the blood flowed out and her song became fainter, and her song became wilder for she sang of the love that is perfected by death and the love that dies not in the tomb. And Echo heard it and took it to the shepherds, and it woke them in the fields, and she took it to the green caves under the sea where the nymphs rejoiced.

 

And finally, the song became fainter and fainter until it stopped, for the Nightingale had died.

 

“Look Nightingale, the rose is finished!”

 

But the nightingale did not answer, for she lay dead in the long grass with the thorn in her heart. The rose was crimson on its girdle and crimson in its heart and crimson all over.

 

The student opened his window and said, “What a piece of luck! This rose is the finest rose in the world. I’m sure the professor’s daughter will dance with me now.”

 

And he plucked it and brought it to the professor’s daughter and said, “Look I have brought you a red rose and now you will dance with me.”

 

“No, I will not. The chamberlain’s son has sent me some real jewels and as everyone knows jewels are much more better than flowers.”

 

“Well, I think you are very rude,” said the student.

 

“Well,” said the professor’s daughter, “What are you? Just a student. Why I don’t think you even have silver buckles in your shoes like the chamberlain’s son does.”

 

The student threw the rose into the street and a cartwheel ran over it. And he went into his room and said, “Love is a very silly thing, I think I will go back to philosophy.”

 

And he picked up a very big and dusty book and began to read.

 

Shannon Seiberlich

1 Charlotte Mason, A Philosophy of Education, Chapter 2.

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A Poetry Lesson https://amblesideschools.org/a-poetry-lesson/ Fri, 21 Jul 2023 19:26:06 +0000 https://amblesideschools.org/?p=1649 As an Ambleside teacher, preparing and teaching a lesson is a lesson itself — a great adventure that takes the teacher on his or her own path of discovery. We search, we read, we consider, we ponder, we reflect, we gain insight … we’re inspired. In the preparing and planning we grow and learn ourselves. The text is the teacher, and the teacher is taught. And each subject has its own distinct path of learning.

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A Poetry Lesson

relationship, n. the way in which two or more people are connected, or the

way they behave toward each other; the way in which things are connected

or work together1; late 14c. as “act of telling or relating in words,” from

Anglo-French relacioun,2

 

If I had to describe Charlotte Mason and her philosophy of education in just one word, it would be ‘relationship.’ She is all about relationship:

 

Relationship with ideas

with nature

with people

with history

with science and mathematics

with poets and their poems

with composers and their music

with artists and their work

ultimately and miraculously,

these relationships are gained through connections and associations

with God Himself,

Holy Spirit.

Through these many and varied relationships

spanning all earthly realms,

we come to know our Creator

our King,

And in our attending, we find His gifts to us:

Treasures of wonder, joy, beauty, and Light,

sorrow, mourning, mercy, and peace.

 

Charlotte Mason thought of poetry as “perhaps, the most searching and intimate of our teachers;”

 

to know about such a poet and his works may be interesting, as it is to know about

repoussé (hammered metal) work; but in the latter case we must know how to use

the tools before we get joy and service out of the art.

 

Poetry, too, supplies us with tools for the modelling of our lives,

and the use of these we must get at for ourselves.

 

The line that strikes us as we read, that recurs, that we murmur over at odd

moments — this is the line that influences our living, if it speak only

 

     “Of old, unhappy, far-off things,
      And battles long ago.” 3

 

A couplet such as this, though it appears to carry no moral weight, instructs our conscience more effectually than many wise saws (sayings). As we ‘inwardly digest,’ reverence comes to us unawares, gentleness, a wistful tenderness towards the past, a sense of continuance, and of a part to play that shall not be loud and discordant, but of a piece with the whole. This is one of the ‘lessons never learned in schools’ which comes to each of us only as we discover it for ourselves.

 

Many have a favourite poet for a year or two, to be discarded for another and another. Some are happy enough to find the poet of their lifetime in Spenser, Wordsworth, Browning, for example; but, whether it be for a year or a life, let us mark as we read, let us learn and inwardly digest. Note how good this last word is. What we digest we assimilate, take into ourselves, so that it is part and parcel of us, and no longer separable.4

 

The English writer, philosopher, and art critic John Ruskin, whom Charlotte Mason greatly admired and often quoted, also had his thoughts about poetry …

 

“It seems to me, and may seem to the reader, strange that we should need to ask the question, ‘What is poetry?’ Here is a word we have been using all our lives, and, I suppose, with a very distinct idea attached to it; and when I am now called upon to give a definition of this idea, I find myself at a pause … In general, people shelter themselves under metaphors, and while we hear poetry described as an utterance of the soul, an effusion of Divinity, or voice of nature, or in other terms equally elevated and obscure, we never attain anything like a definite explanation of the character which actually distinguishes it from prose. I come, after some embarrassment, to the conclusion that poetry is ‘the suggestion by the imagination of noble grounds for the noble emotions.’ …

 

I mean by the noble emotions those four principal sacred passions, Love, Veneration, Admiration, and Joy (this latter especially, if unselfish); and their opposites — Hatred, Indignation (or Scorn), Horror, and Grief — This last, when unselfish, becoming Compassion. These passions in their various combinations constitute what is called ‘poetical feeling’, when they are felt on noble grounds, that is, on great and true grounds. Indignation, for instance, is a poetical feeling, if excited by serious injury; but it is not a poetical feeling if entertained on being cheated out of a small sum of money. It is very possible the manner of the cheat may have been such as to justify considerable indignation; but the feeling is nevertheless not poetical unless the grounds of it be large as well as just.”5

 

As an Ambleside teacher, preparing and teaching a lesson is a lesson itself — a great adventure that takes the teacher on his or her own path of discovery. We search, we read, we consider, we ponder, we reflect, we gain insight … we’re inspired. In the preparing and planning we grow and learn ourselves. The text is the teacher, and the teacher is taught. And each subject has its own distinct path of learning.

 

With the mind contemplating these rich and wonderful ideas, the teacher sets her feet on the path to acquaint the students with a particular poet such as Gerard Manley Hopkins. She sets her task to engage imaginations with his work and seek those noble grounds for the noble emotions.

 

Born in 1844, Hopkins wrote poetry as a young schoolboy and into his school years at Oxford University. He entered the Jesuit Order to begin studies for the priesthood. As a Jesuit, he gave up writing poetry because he believed that writing poetry would distract him from his priestly life. Fortunately, his Jesuit superiors encouraged him, and he felt free again to continue to write his poetry.

 

The poet spent much time in nature where he could see and hear more clearly without worldly interruptions. As he walked, his mind relaxed, and he received the messages in the trees and the birds and the sky and the earth. He kept a ‘notebook.’ He was ever watching. He took notice and cared. He had a questioning mind — a mind that pursued knowledge and wondered. And he certainly stopped to smell the roses. In so doing the poet encountered the Wordsmith — the Author Himself — in His most vibrant awe-inspiring variations. He gained new eyes to see and new ears to hear because of this connection — this relationship.

 

On our quest to form a relationship with Hopkins through his works, we read some of his notebook entries — descriptive phrases and words, his notes for poetry and the first drafts of many verses.

 

These are just a few:

(Early Diaries)6

 

April 14. Moonlight hanging or dropping on treetops like blue cobweb … Also the upper sides of little grotted waves turned to the sky have soft pale-colored cobwebs on them, the under sides green.

 

Note that the beaded oar, dripping, powders or sows the smooth with dry silver drops.

 

Easter 1866. Drops of rain hanging on rails, etc. seen with only the lower rim lighted like nails (of fingers). Screws of brooks and twines. Soft chalky look with more shadowy middles of the globes of cloud on a night with a moon faint or concealed. Mealy clouds with a not brilliant moon. Blunt buds of the ash. Pencil buds of the beech. Lobes of the trees. Cups of the eyes. Gathering back the lightly hinged eyelids. Bows of the eyelids. Pencil of eyelashes. Eyelids like leaves, petals, caps, tufted hats, handkerchiefs, sleeves, gloves. Also of the bones sleeved in flesh. Vermilion look of the hand, held against a candle with the darker parts as the middles of the fingers and especially the knuckles covered with ash.

 

The wind, that passes by so fleet,

Runs his fingers through the wheat,

And leaves the blades, where’er he will veer.

Tingling between dusk and silver.

 

slippery slop, slabby (muddy), slidcy perhaps slope, but if slope

is thus connected what are we to say of slant?

 

The sparky air

Leaps up before my vision, — thou art gone.

Moonlight hanging or dropping on treetops like blue cobweb.

 

The students went home that day with the assignment to find a quiet space outdoors where they could sit and listen and see and reflect upon or ‘inwardly digest’ Hopkins’ notes and then to write their own. Here are just a few of these:

 

The rain falls heavily, splashing against my roof as a soft, rhythmic drumming. It fogs my window … fogging the window in a sparkling glistening wall. All is blurred, but in a shimmering, tranquil way. The lights in my room send beads of light sparkling around my room. A faint rainbow appears, basking over the grassy hill across the street. The clouds shift, and the rainbow vanishes. The sun peeks out between the clouds, and the raindrops sparkle like millions of diamonds.

*     *     *     *     *

The city is busy now that it is noon. Business meetings … people coming and going, towering like bees going in and out of their hive. All the store shops and bakeries are full of people. It is almost Christmas, so toy shops are busy, like in summer when many people go to the beach … all together. The city is asleep. It is 1:00 a.m.; but tomorrow is Christmas Eve. A very special day. They better get ready!

*     *     *    *     *

Water shimmers in sunlight.  It comes in many different forms: liquid, ice, vapor. In its forms it displays beauty. The snow looks so pure.  Vast oceans of water stretching over miles of sand glisten reflecting the sunlight.  After the rain comes a rainbow reminding us of God’s promise to us. The steam coming off hot pavement rises slowly looking like waves on the ocean. The rain waters plants to help give life. Water cascading down waterfalls sounds like chimes or laughter from small children.  Water cleans things making them fresh. It renews animals and humans alike with its fresh taste.

*     *     *     *     *

In listening to the students as they read their compositions the next day, the teacher recognized that a sacred transaction had taken place. The noble ideas of Love, Veneration, Admiration, and Joy had entered the minds of these children. Connections were made. Relationships formed. The next hope was that these would linger and become fortified in time. And Charlotte Mason encouraged us that this is so. One idea begets another and another … We must always consider what ideas we are taking in … What relationships are we forming?

 

By Shannon Seiberlich

Director of Community Relations and former Ambleside teacher

1 Cambridge Dictionary, s.v. “relationship,” accessed April 4, 2023, https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/relationship

2 Harper Douglas, “Etymology of relationship,” Online Etymology Dictionary, accessed April 4, 2023, https://www.etymonline.com/word/relationship.

3 William Wordsworth, “The Solitary Reaper,” Poetry Foundation, accessed April, 4, 2023. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45554/the-solitary-reaper

4 Charlotte Mason, Ourselves, Book II (Wheaton, IL: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., 1989) 71.

5 Levi, Olma C. “Ruskin’s Thoughts on Poetry.” Source: The Sewanee Review, Vol. 31, No. 4 (Oct., 1923), pp. 426-445. The Johns Hopkins University Press, URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/27533697.

6 Storey, Graham. “The Journals and Papers of Gerard Manley Hopkins. Oxford University Press, 1959, https://archive.org/stream/in.ernet.dli.2015.460186/2015.460186.The-Journals_djvu.txt

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What a Bouquet! https://amblesideschools.org/what-a-bouquet/ https://amblesideschools.org/what-a-bouquet/#respond Wed, 05 Oct 2022 20:50:10 +0000 https://amblesideschools.org/?p=1166 In a moment, these three simple words shed a better light on a year’s work of daily lessons and nurturing and mending relationships.

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What a Bouquet!

 

Harmony in our Efforts –– Such a recognition of the work of the Holy Spirit as the Educator of mankind, in things intellectual as well as in things moral and spiritual, gives us ‘new thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven,’ a sense of harmony in our efforts and of acceptance of all that we are. What stands between us and the realisation of this more blessed life? This; that we do not realise ourselves as spiritual beings invested with bodies, living, emotional, a snare to us and a joy to us, but which are, after all, the mere organs and interpreters of our spiritual intention. Once we see that we are dealing spirit with spirit with the friend at whose side we are sitting, with the people who attend to our needs, we shall be able to realise how incessant is the commerce between the divine Spirit and our human spirit. It will be to us as when one stops one’s talk and one’s thoughts in the springtime, to find the world full of bird-music unheard the instant before. In like manner we shall learn to make pause in our thoughts, and shall hear in our intellectual perplexities, as well as in our moral, the clear, sweet, cheering and inspiring tones of our spiritual Guide. We are not speaking here of what is commonly called the religious life, or of our definite approaches to God in prayer and praise; these things all Christian people comprehend more or less fully; we are speaking only of the intellectual life, the development of which in children is the aim of our subjects and methods of instruction. 1

 

Homeschooling is challenging and requires sacrifice to do it well. Practicing Charlotte Mason’s philosophy of education at home is additionally challenging in that being faithful to this work necessitates that the parent-teacher engage deeply with the texts and materials and participate actively alongside the children. This often occupies much of the day, and then it takes time to prepare for future lessons. This work is not to be taken lightly and beckons one to such virtues as patience, fortitude, and temperance.

 

As followers of Christ, we know children are a gift from God. And not only are children a gift, “they are like arrows in a warrior’s hands” . . .  and one should be joyful “if his quiver is full of them.” And we are. But sometimes, in the day-to-day routine, we may need to be reminded of the preciousness of the gift of a “full quiver.”

 

An Ambleside homeschool mother shares a poem born out of struggle and inspired by an idea from a wise and winsome priest — a priest “who didn’t look on me in sympathy when I said I have seven daughters but instead said, “What a Bouquet!” In a moment, these three simple words shed a better light on a year’s work of daily lessons and nurturing and mending relationships. In her poem, she describes each daughter as a unique flower in a beautiful bouquet, purposefully turning her thoughts from frustration to what is good, true, and beautiful. How lovely our thoughts and actions may be when directed toward God with a simple idea of finding beauty in struggle and contentment with our lot, whatever these may be. May this be an encouragement and a reminder to “not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap . . .” 2

 

Sunflower

Her petals attract the rays of sunshine that have travelled through the heavens just for her.

She moves only to be receptive to her gift from above.

 

Ivy

She winds her way on and forward finding the smallest of homes for her tendrils.

Then she holds on tenaciously, courageously, growing in impossible places.

 

Peony

How extravagant she is! She holds nothing back, sharing herself completely.

 

Rose

She is the reward of the most patient of caretakers. She is abundant in the hands of a master

who lives to witness her blooms, her full perfection.

 

Carnation

She is hearty and careless for herself, sacrificing herself often for the whims and cares of others.

 

Forget-Me-Not

Every petal she has is so small and delicate, forming each flower, then strung together like a river that starts

with a drop of water and eventually carves and shapes rock itself.

 

Violet

Purple–royal–sacrifice. She can be found in average places; always a remembrance that often

there is extraordinary in the ordinary.

 

Daffodil

She knows what it takes to push through, to grow. She knows how fragile she is but doesn’t save herself

for a better time or an easier life. She will find a way.

 

Lily

She is simply lovely, not needing to draw attention, but able to stand as she is.

Knowing she is all she will ever need to be.

 

Dandelion

She won’t take no for an answer, but persists unceasingly for a spot with her sisters.

 

What a bouquet!

Each is so different, a bounty of beauty in many forms.

If the rose said, “My beauty is complete,”

Would it diminish the beauty of the daffodil?

It could not, for beauty is not a thing to be had but a gift bestowed.

It can be appreciated, mimicked, ignored, neglected, or desired, but the purpose of beauty is always the same:

to reflect its source.

1 Mason, Charlotte. Parents and Children. London, England: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner and Co. Ltd., 1904.

2 Galatians 6:9

Image “Violette Heymann” by Odilon Redon

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