Hardy’s “Moments of Vision”

I’ve been wanting to return to the poetry of Thomas Hardy where my original love of poetry began, but haven’t been quite willing to take down the Complete Poems and begin reading from the beginning. So, I was pleased when wood s lot provided a link to Hardy’s MOMENTS OF VISION AND MISCELLANEOUS VERSES at Gutenberg.

I was originally attracted to this volume by the title poem, one I still find it powerful after several readings.

MOMENTS OF VISION

That mirror
Which makes of men a transparency,
Who holds that mirror
And bids us such a breast-bare spectacle see
Of you and me?

That mirror
Whose magic penetrates like a dart,
Who lifts that mirror
And throws our mind back on us, and our heart,
Until we start?

That mirror
Works well in these night hours of ache;
Why in that mirror
Are tincts we never see ourselves once take
When the world is awake?

That mirror
Can test each mortal when unaware;
Yea, that strange mirror
May catch his last thoughts, whole life foul or fair,
Glassing it–where?

On one level, the poem seems to suggest that there is an external force (may one dare to suggest, God?) who forces us to look at our true selves, a mirror that forces us to see our “whole life foul or fair� and “glassing it� on Judgment Day.

On another level, though, it seems to be the individual himself, or, perhaps, more precisely, his conscience that re-examines his life and ultimately judges the way he has lived.

Perhaps this poem rings true because after a certain age one is apt to look back on one’s life and make judgments about how that life has been lived. It’s hard not to have a few regrets, and it is perhaps easier to become sentimental about those regrets than to see them in the framework of later events. Actions we wish we hadn’t taken may in the long run actually teach us truths that profoundly affect the rest of our lives.

That is not to say that “in these night hours of ache� that we won’t despair over decisions we’ve made and events that have shaped our lives. One would probably be less than human not to rightfully have some regrets over a lifetime of actions, and I certainly consider myself human.

Friends

As you already know if you read this blog at all regularly, I tend to be obsessive. So it should come as no great surprise that I’m posting yet another hummingbird photo.

I noticed the other day that there is more than one hummingbird in the yard. I know that because I saw one chasing another one away from the garden. Then I started noticing that the colors on the hummingbirds I’ve been seeing were quite different.

A week ago I wondered if the hummingbirds had all left. After I finally captured what I considered a “passable” photograph yesterday, they seemed to be everywhere, ready to pose at the slightest request, much in the same way that “rare” cars like the one you just bought seem to appear everywhere.

A Rainy Day

It’s been raining continuously here in Tacoma today, as it has been most of the night. I was originally scheduled to visit Doug in Tacoma with Dawn, Rich and the kids, but we’ve decided to postpone the trip until it’s better weather. He has a marvelous garden with multiple bird feeders, and I’d planned on coming back with some great photos.

As it is, I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with posting some recent photos because the trails are undoubtedly soaked today, and I’m not in much of a mood to wade through the mud in the middle of July. Of course, if it were January or February I would probably consider today a beautiful, warm day. It’s amazing how expectations can alter our whole perception of a day, isn’t it?

I’m really not much of a “birder,” but I’ve been feeding them for over ten years now and I’m always pleased when one shows up that I haven’t seen before. This is the first time I can ever remember regularly seeing a Goldfinch, even though it’s the Washington State bird:

and as a reminder of just how changeable the weather is here in the Pacific Northwest, here’s another picture that I took of the hummingbird yesterday:

That’s sunshine, not liquid sunshine, reflected in the greens in the background.