Selected Poem - 'Even-song'

George Herbert would have been taught from childhood to say a private prayer first thing in the morning and last thing at night, as would all devout Christians at that time. 'The Temple' includes his poetical interpretation of both devotions - 'Matins', and this one to end the day.

Even-song

Blest be the God of love,
Who gave us eyes, and light, and power this day,
Both to be busie, and to play.
But much more blest be God above,

Who gave me sight alone,
Which to himself he did denie:
For when he sees my waies, I dy:
But I have got his sonne, and he hath none.

What have I brought thee home
For this thy love? have I discharg’d the debt,
Which this dayes favour did beget?
I ranne; but all I brought, was fome.

Thy diet, care, and cost
Do end in bubbles, balls of winde;
Of winde to thee whom I have crost,
But balls of wilde-fire to my troubled minde.

Yet still thou goest on,
And now with darknesse closest wearie eyes,
Saying to man, It doth suffice:
Henceforth repose; your work is done.

Thus in thy ebony box
Thou dost inclose us, till the day
Put our amendment in our way,
And give new wheels to our disorder’d clocks.

I muse, which shows more love,
The day or night: that is the gale, this th’ harbour;
That is the walk, and this the arbour;
Or that the garden, this the grove.

My God, thou art all love.
Not one poore minute scapes thy breast,
But brings a favour from above;
And in this love, more then in bed, I rest.

Commentary

Although an evening church service is usually called Evensong, it is more properly entitled Evening Prayer. That communal act of worship is not what George Herbert is referring to in this poem; it is actually his representation of private prayer just before bedtime.

As with so many of Herbert's poems, and appropriately for private prayer, 'Even-song' is largely a conversation between the speaker and his God. But the first two stanzas are concerned with acknowledging the blessings experienced that day, and recognising the speaker's own failings and the debt owed to Christ's redemption.

In the next two stanzas the speaker reflects on what he has done that day. He concludes that he has fallen short in comparison with what God might have expected of him; that, despite his best efforts, it amounts to very little (foam, bubbles, balls of wind). He accepts that this is scant return for the love lavished upon him by his God, and it causes him some anguish.

But in stanzas five and six the speaker consoles himself that, for God, even what he has achieved is quite enough and now he is entitled to some rest. Herbert introduces the splendid conceit of enclosing him in an 'ebony box', which not only represents the darkness of night but also conveys a feeling of comfort and security, of insulation from the world until the ensuing dawn can afford an opportunity for improvement and for putting things right. Tomorrow is another day.

 

In the next stanza, Herbert's speaker pauses his conversation to reflect on a comparison between day and night. Which, he wonders, better exemplifies God's love - the achievements of the busy day or the repose of night time? Typically with Herbert, he offers three imaginative illustrations of his point, each contrasting a scene of activity with one of peace and calm.

And so finally Herbert returns to the abiding theme embedded in so much of his poetry, God's all-embracing love. Perhaps reflecting Romans 8:39, the speaker concludes that whatever the time of day or night, and in every circumstance, his God is always with him. It is with this comforting thought that he can now close his eyes and go to sleep.

In terms of its structure and rhyme scheme, 'Even-song' must surely be one of Herbert's most innovative verses. The four-line stanzas are paired, with the lines of each pair being identical in length and construction but arranged in a different order - a difference so subtle that it might not even be noticed on first reading.

And as a final thought, surely nobody but George Herbert could have come up with the wonderful idea of 'disorder'd clocks' (except possibly Salvador Dali)?

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