George Herbert

George Herbert (1593-1633), one of the 17th Century’s great metaphysical poets, is also one of the great religious poets of all time. As it happens, he took holy orders in the Anglican Church only three years before his eventual death. Most of his great works were written during this brief, incendiary time in which he also served as a beloved parish parson and a devoted husband.

Herbert is celebrated for his inventive conceits and for the intimate stance he takes before his God. A few, like The Collar, seem almost modern in tone. His successful poems sweep us into the poet’s own doubts and ecstasies or fill us with an existential quailing before Enormity. His less successful poems, like Hope, profoundly underwhelm.

Hope is hamstrung by a clutter of symbols at once both allusive and overly private. To make any sense at all of this poem, one must know that St. Paul spoke of hope as the soul’s anchor and that John Donne once gave Herbert some seals featuring the image of Christ crucified on an anchor. A familiarity with the Psalms and the Book of Leviticus is also necessary. This is too much allusiveness for such a short poem, especially one written in cadences reminiscent of doggerel. The personification of Hope is not very credible and the poem ends with a dull thud.

Hope

I gave to Hope a watch of mine: but he
                An anchor gave to me.
Then an old prayer-book I did present:  
                And he an optic sent.
With that I gave a vial full of tears:  
                But he a few green ears:
Ah Loiterer! I’ll no more, no more I’ll bring:  
                I did expect a ring.