) The best things in life aren't things - Art Buchwald

The Clod and the Pebble

A poem crossed my path. The clod and the Pebble by William Blake.

"Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell's despair."

So sung a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a Pebble of the brookWarbled out these metres meet:

"Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven's despite."

I couldn't quite make sense of it and asked Matthew to shine his bright lights on it, perplexed as I was (or scared as I was of having perfectly well understood it, a perfect example of my contradictions in action). Matthew has the finest command of english and an uncommon common sense the size of his hometown island, Jersey.

“Oliver,

That is a bizarre choice of poem to send. I don't think it is particularly nice, but I guess it depends on you interpretation. It is about the manner in which love should be perused, selfishly or unselfishly and the manner in which you express your love, hidden or disclosed. On the one hand the poet seems to suggest that love should be fancy free and that the devotion to love is enough and in a way that love is accepting that you give all of yourself to someone. However, it also suggests that love can be selfish and the pursuit of you own happiness is more important than that of other loves or lovers. Let me know which words are causing difficulty and I will explain them for you as best I can (I am only a simple banker!) but remember poetry is subjective rather than objective, so another person may interpret it differently. Poems are only ever really understood correctly in the mind of the sender and receiver. There is not necessarily any right or wrong.

Matt"

I agree now. That was more than bizarre. Matthew, you are a genious. And I am an idiot. The size of William's British Empire.