The Light of Stars
Just before heading off to bed early last week, I read this poem, The Light of Stars. I had never read this particular Longfellow piece before. I found this comforting poem while digging through the public domain for poetry to present at Poetry + Tea Thursday with two favorite faces of mine (BB+J?--we’re, uh, workshopping a group name still).
To be frank, Poetry + Tea Thursday has only happened once so far, but I’m aching for it to happen again soon. See, each week, I and my two besties, who both live thousands of miles from me, gather together via FaceTime in catchin’ up. I learn something new each time. We have a set topic and do a show and tell of sorts. It’s loads of fun. I’ll tell you about it some more another day.
Anway, I didn’t present The Light of Stars but instead chose to read a few pieces from Hope Florence’s first collection, A Conversation with the Universe. I’m glad I didn’t share Longfellow’s because B recited (via memory) another favorited Longfellow to the chat--The Tide Rises and The Tide Falls. She was marvelous, by the way.
He (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, that is) is a well known poet, and a man I studied in college, a man with a taste for travel, nature, words, and beauty. He admired Washington Irving’s work, and I see a lot of Irving in Longfellow’s writings. Now that I live in New England, I see a lot of Longfellow. He has nature trails named after him, which I do think he’d be very happy with that little homage. He has book shops and restaurants and historical markers in his name. He is more than well known in New England, he is as much of New England as the White Mountains, or the cape cod seals, or the northern lights on the border of Maine and Canada.
And in reading this poem, The Light of Stars, I hunger for that same sky. But this poem is so much more than looking up at the night sky with wandering eyes.
As I read his words, sipping on a warm cozy chamomile tea, he lulled me to a place of calm. The es alliteration as he begins “sinking silently, All silently” ushers a sense of calm and comfort, right from the start.
The rhythm throughout the entirety of the poem is steady, adding a vocal layer that evokes and encourages calm and quiet strength. As he alludes to Mars, the ancient Roman god of war, he conjures a sense of unity within me. Pain isolates. When deep in heartache, my whole body and mind and heart focus solely on the pain of it. But war, well as war reflects that isolated pain, it too calls out the other pieces of me, calling on strength--giving this ace a sense of purpose--wholeness, compassion, and growth.
I leaned into those encouraging words, out of pain is strength. The night sky is a quiet sky, not as vibrant or bright as its counterpart Day, but it still shimmers and gleams even though it is small. This image of a night sky speaks so loudly of a quiet hope, a growing strength.
If you’d like to learn more about Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the Poetry Foundation wrote an extensive, thorough biography to introduce you to the American Poet.
Also, if you’d like to find more pieces by HWL, I invite you to go digging in the public domain. This is a good starting point.
Thank you for reading my response to Longfellow’s The Light of Stars. I hope you enjoyed it, or further, it inspired you to pick up some of his work. You are greatly appreciated. May you find a light, even if it be but small may it be yours.