A while back, I wrote a little piece about why children should memorize poetry. One of the things that I didn't emphasize nearly enough, I think, is how much pleasure you get from having that poem the rest of your life. That just got brought home to me in a very real way. I was chatting with my mom on the phone this afternoon, and something sparked her to reference 'It's like Sam McGee from Tennessee'. I drew a total blank, and she said 'Oh, you've heard of it! It's that famous poem about Sam McGee from Tennessee - I read it in the 8th grade."

That would have been over fifty years ago, but she was so excited about remembering a few lines of the poem that she had me hunt it down on the interweb and read it to her - and halfway through the first verse, she joined in and started reciting along with me. I haven't heard her laugh so much in a long time. The poem is The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert Service, and it really is fun to read.

It got me thinking again about the pleasure I've found in poetry that I memorized years and years ago. I can still recite Walter De la Mare's Silver by heart. I learned it in sixth grade. I can also still remember reading this poem in second grade at Thanksgiving:

Indian Children

Where we walk to school each day
Indian children used to play
All about our native land,
Where the shops and houses stand.

And the trees were very tall,
And there were no streets at all,
Not a church and not a steeple
Only woods and Indian people.

Only wigwams on the ground,
And at night bears prowling round
What a different place to-day
Where we live and work and play!

Annette Wynne

It's so very very simple, but that little poem was like an epiphany for my little six year old brain. I remember walking around for days, seeing my sity through new eyes, looking around at "all the shops and all the people" - and the magic of the lines "and the trees were very tall, and there were no streets at all".

What poems do you recall? They don't have to be memorized - I'm just wondering if there are people who were captured by a poem when they were young and still remember it. Post 'em up - just titles, or the line or two that sticks in your mind, or a link to the poem if you can find it.. let's share.

jonathan ,what an absolutely NEAT project! Thank you!

This was the poem that I first related to. I would make my mother read it to me over and over.

MUD
Polly Chase Boyden

Mud is very nice to feel
All squishy-squash between the toes!
I'd rather wade in wiggly mud
Than smell a yellow rose.

Nobody else but the rosebush knows
How nice mud feels
Between the toes.

I admire your poem very much

y are so sweet as you poem
thanks

I know what you mean. I can't exactly say that I have whole poems memorized, but there are a lot of memorable lines of verse that still pop into my head occasionally, even though it has been a long time since I read them.

I can still hear Ginsberg query, "America, when can I go into a supermarket and buy what I want with my good looks?"

I can still imagine Ferlinghetti complaining, "But the next morning, she has bad teeth and really hates poetry!"

Plath still croons "Daddy you bastard, I'm through!" in my mind from time to time.

And C. Dale Young is still there to remind me, "How does the sinner outlast the sin?"

I've always considered attempting to memorize something to be a cruel torture for me. I would rather write a twenty page research paper than attempt to memorize something of any length -- seriously, I would. My mind just doesn't do memorization very well, I've never been able to do it no matter how hard I tried. Whenever a cruel teacher would attempt to make me memorize something in school I could maybe get through it if absolutely necessary but to me it was harder and more difficult than writing my 150 page senior thesis for college. I have a difficult time in even remembering lines to my most favorite of songs (correctly at least, I make words up quite often) that I've heard thousands of times.

I do remember the content of the great poems I've read before and a few lines if given back to me will spark my remembrance of which poet and poem, but for some people memorizing (like me) can be an extremely difficult and painful thing to do. Maybe that's just the way my brain works though?

-- j.

I am tortured by my own writings, the other night I had a lyrical full poem awaken me as if I should write it down. I refused and still refuse to write it down as it disturbed my sleep so. I do remember Blake's " Tyger Tyger " as a beautiful thing of childhood along with the Rouseau painting of the " Sleeping Gypsy ". Now that I am learning the guitar it's all about the memorization of notes, chords, and placement of fingers in relation to tempo etc. I think the there should be memorization of poems, but they should be the ones that a child is inclined to or they will be avoided at all costs if forced.

In sixth grade we performed a poem/song for graduation that I can still recite today... The Song of Hiawatha and later in junior high we learned a poem that for some reason stayed with me over the years - other than The Raven which I will never forget .... but one called Abu Ben Adhem - I loved the flow of that one so much - it sounded like music when recited.

Abou Ben Adhem by James Henry Leigh Hunt

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said
"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still, and said "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

Memorization, for me is selectively easy or hard...something I find peculiar and lovely I can memorize in two or three readings, and something that does not suit my fancy can take forever. I do think there is value to memorizing poetry, but with a large *

*what you wish or love well enough to memorize you will. What you do not love well enough to memorize, but are forced to anyway, you will resent or forget. For instance, in third grade (I shall never forget: Dour Mrs. King with her unnatural hair, perma-pressed, as if, on rising she clapped on one of those play-dough molds about her head, stuffed herself full of blue (pardon me, periwinkle) and cranked away, trimming off the excess. But I digress:) we were subjected to, and inflicted by, the sort of shit that isn't literature at all while learning to read. One such poem was (I will never forgive King or the author that wrote it) "You, You, Caribou" Even in third grade I knew it was awful writing...and I was not a talented child.

I am happy to note I've forgotten the terribly sing-song idiocy except for the refrain "yes you, caribou", and doubly pleased on googling that I had no luck finding it (I did not look hard)--maybe children everywhere have been spared and it fell into the Chasm of Bad Poems. *crosses fingers*

I've always loved chanting this soliloquy from Henry V Act 4 Scene 1 to myself.

O God of battles, steel my soldiers' hearts.
Possess them not with fear. Take from them now
The sense of reck'ning ere th' opposèd numbers
Pluck their hearts from them. Not today, O Lord,
Oh, not today, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown.
I Richard’s body have interrèd anew,
And on it have bestowed more contrite tears
Than from it issued forcèd drops of blood.
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,
Who twice a day their withered hands hold up
Toward heaven to pardon blood. And I have built
Two chantries where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard’s soul. More will I do—
Though all that I can do is nothing worth,
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon.


'where the sad and solemn priests
Sing still for Richard’s soul.'

Simply marvellous!