Happy Egyptian New Year: Gateway to September

Dear Members, Alumni, & Friends of the JSMT:

Today is the ancient Egyptian New Year’s Day! J In honor of the occasion, I have included a poem about ancient Egypt in this fortnight’s bundle of poetic wit and wisdom, along with some poems about September that I remember from my elementary school days.

Hermes Trismegistus (pictured above) was a legendary Egyptian sage from hoary antiquity. The celestial globe and the caduceus signify his mastery of astronomy and medicine. Learn more about the ancient Egyptian worldview in Brian Brown’s The Wisdom of the Egyptians (1923), archived @ http://www.sacred-texts.com/egy/woe/index.htm. (Image Credit: Public Domain)

“Egypt” (1882)

By Gerald Massey (1828-1907)

Egypt!  How I have dwelt with you in dreams,

So long, so intimately, that it seems

As if you had borne me; though I could not know

It was so many thousand years ago!

And in my gropings darkly underground

The long-lost memory at last is found

Of motherhood – you mother of us all!

And to my fellowmen I must recall

The memory too; that common motherhood

May help to make the common brotherhood.

Egypt!  It lies there in the far-off past,

Opening with depths profound and growths as vast

As the great valley of Yosemite;

The birthplace out of darkness into day;

The shaping matrix of the human mind;

The cradle and the nursery of our kind.

This was the land created from the flood,

The land of Atum, made of the red mud,

Where Num sat in his Teba throned on high,

And saw the deluge once a year go by,

Each brimming with the blessing that it brought,

And by that waterway, in Egypt’s thought,

The gods descended; but they never hurled

The deluge that should desolate the world.

There the vast hewers of the early time

Built, as if that way they would surely climb

The heavens, and left their labors without name –

Colossal as their carelessness of fame –

Sole likeness of themselves – that heavenward

Forever look with statuesque regard,

As if some vision of the eternal grown

Petrific, was forever fixed in stone!

They watched the moon re-orb, the stars go round,

And drew the circle; thought’s primordial bound.

The heavens looked into them with living eyes

To kindle starry thoughts in other skies,

For us reflected in the image-scroll,

That night by night the stars for aye unroll.

The royal heads of language bow them down

To lay in Egypt’s lap each borrowed crown.

The glory of Greece was but the afterglow

Of her forgotten greatness lying low;

Her hieroglyphics buried dark as night,

Or coal deposits filled with future light,

Are mines of meaning; by their light we see

Through many an overshadowing mystery.

The nursing Nile is living Egypt still,

And as her lowlands with its freshness fill,

And heave with double-breasted bounteousness,

So doth the old hidden source of mind yet bless

The nations; secretly she brought to birth,

And Egypt still enriches all the earth.

“A Calendar of Sonnets: September” by Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)

O golden month! How high thy gold is heaped!
The yellow birch-leaves shine like bright coins strung
On wands; the chestnut’s yellow pennons tongue
To every wind its harvest challenge. Steeped
In yellow, still lie fields where wheat was reaped;
And yellow still the corn sheaves, stacked among
The yellow gourds, which from the earth have wrung
Her utmost gold. To highest boughs have leaped
The purple grape, -- last thing to ripen, late
By very reason of its precious cost.
O Heart, remember, vintages are lost
If grapes do not for freezing night-dews wait.
Think, while thou sunnest thyself in Joy’s estate,
Mayhap thou canst not ripen without frost!

“September” by Helen Hunt Jackson

The golden-rod is yellow;

The corn is turning brown;

The trees in apple orchards

With fruit are bending down.

The gentian’s bluest fringes

Are curling in the sun;

In dusty pods the milkweed

Its hidden silk has spun.

The sedges flaunt their harvest,

In every meadow nook;

And asters by the brook-side

Make asters in the brook.

From dewy lanes at morning

The grapes’ sweet odors rise;

At noon the roads all flutter

With yellow butterflies.

By all these lovely tokens

September days are here,

With summer’s best of weather,

And autumn’s best of cheer.

But none of all this beauty

Which floods the earth and air

Is unto me the secret

Which makes September fair.

‘Tis a thing which I remember;

To name it thrills me yet:

One day of one September

I never can forget.

Happy Labor Day weekend! J

Rob