A Poem a Day

Back in the mid-1990s, I was part of a group called the Vermont Book Professionals Association. Steerforth Press, then in South Royalton, Vermont and now in Hanover, New Hampshire, was one of the other members.

In 1994, Steerforth brought out the American version of what has turned out to be one of my favorite books of poetry called A POEM A DAY.

It's filled with all kinds of verse from a wide variety of sources with a poem for each day of the year. The idea, of course, is to imbibe poetry constantly and consistently—in little bites—throughout the year.

Yesterday's adventures with Emily Dickinson reminded me of this book and how, during a tough, very snowy winter, poetry may be just what we (I) need.

Today's poem is called Imagination by a Scottish playwright named John Davidson (1857–1909)

Imagination

There is a dish to hold the sea,
A brazier to contain the sun,
A compass for the galaxy,
A voice to wake the dead and done!

The minister of ministers,
Imagination, gathers up
The undiscovered Universe,
Like jewels in a jasper cup.

In flame can mingle north and south;
Its accent with the thunder arrive;
The ruddy sentence of its mouth
Can make the ancient dead alive.

The mart of power, the fount of will,
The form and mold of every star,
The source and bound of good and ill,
The key of all the things that are,

Imagination, new and strange
In every age can turn the year;
Can shift the poles and lightly change
The mood of men, the world's career.