Something Left Undone
Something Left Undone, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Published in The Atlantic magazine, November, 1863)
Labor with what zeal we will,
Something still remains undone,
Something uncompleted still,
Waits the rising of the sun.
By the bedside, on the stair,
At the threshold, near the gates,
With its menace or its prayer,
Like a mendicant it waits:
Waits, and will not go away, —
Waits, and will not be gainsaid.
By the cares of yesterday
Each to-day is heavier made,
Till at length it is, or seems,
Greater than our strength can bear, —
As the burden of our dreams,
Passing on us everywhere;
And we stand from day to day
Like the dwarfs of times gone by,
Who, as Northern legends say,
On their shoulders held the sky.
Legend has it that the Norse God Odin dispatched the dwarfs Austri (East), Vestri (West), Nordri (North), and Sudri (South) to hold up the four corners of the sky. (I had to look that up on the internet, which seems to know everything.) If you are like me, you may know a lot of people who feel as though they are one of those dwarfs Longfellow speaks of, who are carrying the world on their shoulders. Perhaps you feel that way yourself at times. Some days it is all too much: too much war, too much politics, too much fear and worry, too much hunger, too much poverty, too much polarization, too much environmental crisis. It can feel as though we mortals are carrying the burdens of immortals.
But, skip back to the beginning of Longfellow's poem above: You will notice that all the work and worry awaits the rising sun, the implication being that during the night we rest. That is what I want to think about here today – the need to rest to ease the burdens we bear.
This is the final day of Longfellow Days in Brunswick, Maine, my hometown. Few people read Longfellow poems these days. Our culture's taste in poetry has drifted from iambic pentameter and rhymes. But, in his day, Longfellow was a rock star. He was published all over the world and absolutely revered in America. Think Taylor Swift, and you might have some idea.
Here in Brunswick, Longfellow still is a rock star, remembered by a month-long celebration of poetry every February, his birth month. Yes, we do hear Longfellow poems sprinkled throughout the various activities, but the focus of Longfellow Days also includes (one could argue it mainly includes) a celebration of living, published poets right here in Maine. There are numerous poetry readings, including some with open mics where anyone can share a poem they wrote or one they particularly love. There are lectures and sometimes films, always linked in some way to Longfellow's life and times. The Unitarian Universalist church, where Longfellow was a long-ago member, always holds a February church service to honor him. Today the town celebrates Longfellow's February 27th birthday with an open mic and birthday cake. (He's 217 years old, in case you want to know.)
You may dislike Longfellow's poetry, or even poetry in general, but I bet you are familiar with – and maybe even sometimes utter – some of Longfellow's enduring expressions:
“Into each life some rain must fall.”
“Ships that pass in the night...”
“Lives of great men all remind us we can make our lives sublime, and, departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of time.”
“The sky is full of stars, invisible by day”
“Let us then be up and doing”
“Learn to labor and to wait”
Longfellow's life story instructs me on the subject of burdens, rest, and recovery. Longfellow attended Bowdoin College here in town. After graduating and spending time studying languages in Europe, Bowdoin hired him the first-ever Professor of Modern Languages, a position he held until Harvard College snapped him up a few years later. I am guessing he was always given to poetry and literature. But recovering from tragedy is what launched his famous career. He made a second trip Europe to gain fluency in German. His first wife Mary and one of her friends came with him. While they were all so far from home, Mary lost a late-term pregnancy, a childbirth that ultimately killed her as well as the baby. Recovering from that unfathomable loss gave birth to something new – the poet who would become world-famous.
I do not know exactly when Longfellow penned today's poem, “Something Left Undone,” but when it was published in 1863, Longfellow was enduring another despairing period of his life. Against the backdrop of the Civil War (which was devastating all by itself), Longfellow's personal life took a tragic turn: His second wife Fanny died in 1863 when a candle flame set her dress on fire and left her with extensive burns all over her body. Longfellow himself was injured in the accident when he rushed to Fanny to extinguish the flames. (The story as I know it is that he grew his now-famous beard to cover the scars on his face.) Then, in early 1863, his beloved eldest son Charles ran away from home, lying about his too-young age, to enlist in the Union Army. (In fact, Charles would be seriously wounded soon after “Something Left Undone” was published.) So, when Longfellow spoke of dreams “greater than our strength can bear,” he was describing a reality he was living.
All of us sometimes have chasms suddenly open up at our feet, just as Longfellow did, and we have to find new paths to take lest we tumble into the abyss. Longfellow's pen mostly rested during those bleak times of his life. Stilling his pen, resting, gave him space to recover. And he ultimately found his way back to his life's calling as poet, writer, and translator.
In my view, finding enough rest from the ongoing welter of life is equally as important as recovering from those times of sudden tragedy. Without that rest, we risk being unable to face the world as it is and to work to build it whole.
Perhaps you are like me, following the news closely and trying to find ways to make a difference in the outcome of the many concerning stories constantly assailing us in our world of 24/7 news feed. What to do to stay strong? Here are some of the things I have worked out for myself. My list is not prescriptive; it simply offers some examples. What works for you may be entirely different, but no less important or energizing.
I take part in a monthly book group with neighbors who have become good friends over the years.
I organize and take part in a coffee clatch that meets every Monday morning to start the week off right.
I am active in my church.
I keep a journal called “Gratitude: Three Things” in which I daily record three things for which I am grateful.
I plant bulbs in the fall to enjoy in the spring.
Although I read print news regularly, I avoid television news to spare myself moving pictures that add to my dismay without increasing my understanding of the issues of the day.
As part of my community work, I try to find ways to help others that also feed my soul. The Conversation Cafe I wrote about in my last post is one example.
I write this blog!
Other periods of my life have included different ways of caring for myself. When hips and back were in better working order, I used to take regular, long walks, for example. And before the pandemic, I more regularly sang and played music. Lives and circumstances change, and we are best served when we adapt to new realities. And we serve best when we also take time for rest.
“Tomorrow is another day,” my mother used to say to me when I needed comfort for whatever seeming disaster had befallen me in the current day. I think of that now, when the work to build our better world seems insurmountable. “Tomorrow is another day.” Do what I can today, and rest to gain strength for what waits to be done tomorrow.
Notes: It would be hard for me to provide exact references for the above material about Longfellow, for I have been studying him in various ways ever since I moved to Brunswick in 2007. For me, one of the best sources for information about his life has been Longfellow: A Rediscovered Life by Charles Calhoun. (Beacon Press, 2005). This year's Longfellow Days featured a lecture by Gemma Cannon, who wrote Voices of the Night (MCG Publications, 2014), a book about grieving that features the story of Longfellow and his first wife, Mary. The lecture was fabulous, and the book is now on my to-read list.