Jerusalem (a work in progress not a finished poem-picture)
Comments appreciated.
We look over his shoulder
At Shepherds standing by,
Unmindful of the city.
The open sky is heaven enough for them.
But shining on the other hill
The artist shows so clear
The place they call Jerusalem
So far and yet so near.
A valley lies below us, bare and dark
To me this has to be the shadow of death
A place of desperation, not a country park
Where all too many soldiers took their final breath
The armies of the past, and of the future too
We do not see them now upon the ground
And yet I think I hear their dreadful sound
Out of nowhere, a God without a face
Compels the souls of men to make for this.
It whispers to the world, “This is the place
Which, more than any other, is the source of bliss,
More powerful and wonderful than any lover’s kiss.
For, if there is redemption, it is here.
Come all ye, and enter without fear”.
Over his shoulder we see some goats or sheep
In pastures almost green
A peaceful, restful, pastoral scene
Even the rocks are bright and clean
He might have drawn on William Blake
These could be Northern English hills
An English man’s Jerusalem
to make
Not covered in Satanic Mills
Our fathers went on pilgrimage to reach this holy City
A pure white shining citadel beyond decay
In hope to reach eternity, they made their way,
With prayers in many tongues, and oaths to say.
Some came in peace, some came in holy war
They shared a sacred dream,
Something, for them, worth fighting for.
Thousands fought and thousands died
And thousands more will fight and die
To hold this land. Many
have tried
To find a way of peace, but many lie
And will lie again. I ask you why?
When you believe that God is on your side
You do not count the dead, or lose your pride
We look over his shoulder
For a dream that we hope to come real
A place of beauty love and peaceful games
A place with magnetism, a serene appeal
Where conflicts end in happy resolution
But all these hopes are turned to desolation
The darkness spreading higher on the hill
As war threatens death to every Nation
The beaten child that Lear had left behind
Escaping into nonsense or fine birds
And pastoral landscapes of this remarkable kind
Where sheep and goats go grazing without turds
And men sit silently, no words
Upon their lips. Perhaps his promises had all been kept
Or maybe he stood here, painting while he wept.
There is one more stanza to come
How pleasant to know Mr. Lear,
Who has written such volumes of stuff.
Some think him ill-tempered and queer,
But a few find him pleasant enough.
His mind is concrete and fastidious,
His nose is remarkably big;
His visage is more or less hideous,
His beard it resembles a wig.
He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers,
(Leastways if you reckon two thumbs);
He used to be one of the singers,
But now he is one of the dumbs.
He sits in a beautiful parlour,
With hundreds of books on the wall;
He drinks a great deal of marsala,
But never gets tipsy at all.
He has many friends, laymen and clerical,
Old Foss is the name of his cat;
His body is perfectly spherical,
He weareth a runcible hat.
When he walks in waterproof white,
The children run after him so!
Calling out, "He's gone out in his night-
Gown, that crazy old Englishman, oh!"
He weeps by the side of the ocean,
He weeps on the top of the hill;
He purchases pancakes and lotion,
And chocolate shrimps from the mill.
He reads, but he does not speak, Spanish,
He cannot abide ginger beer;
Ere the days of his pilgrimage vanish,
How pleasant to know Mr. Lear!
Edward Lear
Edward Lear, Jerusalem (Ashmolean Musem Oxford)
Lear (1812-88) is probably best known as an author of Nonsense rhymes, however he was also an accomplished ornithologist and an artist of considerable skill. He painted largely romantic far away places in the Middle East and Asia. His early works were in wash and body colour but he took up oil painting in 1838. Lear began his work out of doors but finished these works in the studio. during the last forty years of his life he was friendly with Holman Hunt and the Pre Raphaelite painters and possibly some of the richness of Lear's later landscape owes much to Hun't encouragement and instruction. He accompanied Hunt on a few of his painting trips and Hunt became a kind of mentor to the older man. Seddon another Pre Raphaelite painted near here at the same time. Whilst Lear's landscapes are very strong his figures show he did not have the passion for observation that is displayed in Hunt's or other Pre Raphaelite work and are more akin to the work of David Robert's landscapes of an earlier school.
Nick and Gabrielle 2011
