MS (8.4.1929 / Marton, Lancashire)

Abou Ben Adhem

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.

Anonymous Submission

by James Henry Leigh Hunt

Comments (4)

poetry/finding a piece of himself/in all lines he reads
Totally sober, I have here, in front of my bespectacled eyes, a book called 'How to be a Wine-Know' by Jennie Grubb (yes double b) . It is a terribly boring book, mostly because she doesn't seem to know her wines any better than I did at the time of the chemistry lab explosion. As far as the extra dropp this webmaster has a game going, (s) he adds a p at random, but usually at the word dropp (see, what happened?) Write a poem with the word dropp and you will see. A Wine-Nose in my neck of the woods is the capillary evidence of ethanol excess showing unmercifully in those whose stomach HCl production is sub-optimal. Incidentally, have you told Rich Hanson that you are as British as is humanely (alright humanly) possible? And what do you make of Lawrence welcoming you, it is a bit like Pope Leo the third being welcomed by Charlemagne in 800 (in Rome) .Or am I missing something? Well, droppp the subject. H
It's a 'wine-nose' over here, Herbert. Maybe you took a dropp to many? An extra pee - but understandable in the circumstances. (Better a gladder gag than a bladder bag, Doctor...)
I second the notion. At the recommendation of our (British university town resident and P/H poet) Italian wine-know (an apparently acceptable but, to my ears, terrible term) , I sample a dropp or two (large drops) of Amarone or Valpolicello while sitting back and reading the new creations.Then, I search for kind comments directed at me, after lapping them up and duly noting the names behind this source of ego-building, I start to feel good. No bottled-up emotions on this island. Can one ask for more? So cheers to the webmaster and/or -mistress from me. We appreciate you more than you know from our poetry. H