The Kindred Points
William Wordsworth’s poem “To the Skylark” has always been a favorite of mine; I find its language and sentiment both so beautiful and inspiring. The skylark is quite a remarkable bird, one of the few that will sing its song as it flies, and it flies to astounding heights. Ironically, it builds its nest on the ground.
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, that music still!
To the last point of vision, and beyond,
Mount, daring warbler!—that love-prompted strain,
('Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond),
Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain:
Yet mightst thou seem, proud privilege! to sing
All independent of the leafy Spring.
Leave to the nightingale her shady wood;
A privacy of glorious light is thine,
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony, with instinct more divine;
Type of the wise who soar, but never roam;
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!
The poet begins by wondering whether the skylark’s flight is due to the unhappiness and worry found on the earth, or whether she remains ever-faithful to the nest left “upon the dewy ground.” Wordsworth’s ode ends by acknowledging the skylark to have the wisdom of those who are able to soar to great, golden heights of imagination without losing their bearing on the practicalities of earth. The skylark’s “love-prompted” song—sung in all seasons—is a link between its flights into “glorious light” and its beloved nest.
This was Charlotte Mason’s favorite poem, and was the inspiration for the PNEU student’s badge featuring a soaring skylark and the motto “I am. I can. I ought. I will.” Miss Mason used Wordsworth’s poem to express her belief that the liberal arts (“the last point of vision and beyond”) and the practical arts (“the earth where cares abound”) were “kindred points,” not to be divorced, or set against each other. For example both Shakespeare and handicrafts were included in her curriculum, a broad curriculum that she believed to be appropriate for children of any socio-economic class.
You see, in Miss Mason’s time, the Victorian era, the liberal arts (music, literature, art, etc.) were enjoyed by the well-off, while the lower classes, considered mentally inferior, were supposed to be unable to grasp these higher concepts. For the working classes, education was all about making a living, not a life; it was purely practical, or vocational. Miss Mason sought to argue that “it is the man who has read and thought on many subjects who is, with necessary training, the most capable whether in handling tools, drawing plans, or keeping books. The more of a person we succeed in making a child, the better will he both fulfill his own life and serve society.”
I recognize and appreciate Miss Mason’s interpretation, but I also have my own. (This is the beauty of poetry, which says more than direct prose can.) For me, the golden heights are Biblical and personal ideals, and the nest on the ground is everyday life. I do believe these two are kindred points; beautiful ideals don’t have any value for me unless they can be brought to bear upon the ‘real world.’ I pray that my life will be a song that links the two.
How do you interpret this poem? Comment below, and let us know!
Friday, May 27, 2011