Joseph-Beth Booksellers had a grownup summer reading program for a gift certificate which looked like a bingo sheet, where each space represented a different category or genre. Participants had to complete a "bingo" set of books to get the gift certificate. I hadn't even been aware of the program when my husband brought home a set of these cards. In looking back over my summer's readings on Goodreads, I found that I already, naturally almost had several bingos without even trying to find books which suited their categories. Hmm. I hadn't realized I was reading so much variety, but it's nice to know that I do read from a wider range of genres than I thought.
Anyway, in order to complete the card easily, I either had to read a book from a genre I'd not read before, or read a book of poetry. I doubt there's very many genres that I've not read before that I'm willing to read, so I went with poetry.
I probably should've chosen a grownup book of poetry, but while I like poetry, and there even have been some authors I'd been interested in reading more from, I can't imagine absorbing a whole book of it in a meaningful manner by summer's end. I like to think over things more than just fly through them.
This book, then, is a cop-out, and my only excuse is all those books of all those other categories I've already read that don't quite line up into a "bingo." My several almost-Bingos, extra books I wouldn't have had to read if I were just going for a win of a single Bingo.
I chose this book, partly because I already had it on hand, and partly because I was curious about the poem from my own childhood I'd heard repeated recently:
"The world is so full of a number of things,
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings."
I had thought there was more to that poem, but I couldn't remember it, and so I dug it out to reminiscence a little. I found that, at least in this book, that's all to that particular poem. An online search confirmed it.
I ended up reading this book to my youngest child, who is more than fully capable of reading it, but seemed to want to curl up next to me and reminiscence with me a little.
If you read this book, read it aloud, dramatically, as most poems were meant to be read aloud.
There were so many of my childhood favorites
"I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see ..."
I and one of my sisters used to have that one memorized.
And I loved the Land of Counterpane, and how RLS turned his frequent childhood illnesses into something playful and good like this, to entertain other little children. I also loved that RLS dedicated "A Child's Garden of Verses" to the nurse that took care of him during his illnesses.
I loved Block City, too.
My youngest and I talked about Windy Nights, and whether the horseman the child heard was 1) his own heartbeat, my child's idea, or 2) wind blowing the branches against the house, my idea. I'd never thought of the heartbeat idea, but it fits too.
Requiem is just sad; RLS wrote it for himself:
"Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
"This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill."
Another reviewer mentioned the problem word in the poem "Travel." It is truly an offensive word now, but there was an era when it wasn't, necessarily. It could've been used that way, but it could also have been just descriptive. The reviewer who mentioned it was a teacher who planned to just skip that poem with her students. Honestly, I'd probably do the same with any large group of kids. There's so many other good poems in here to choose from without opening that can of worms. My own kids are a different matter. I've read it to them because we have more time to discuss those sorts of issues.