A book of verse and thou. For Valentine's

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse – and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness –
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

Just for once, I thought I’d do a post for Valentine’s day. Normally I’d avoid it, since I think that Valentine’s Day, like Easter, Christmas or, indeed, the Eve of All Hallows (OK, OK, Halloween if you prefer), have all become little more than excuses for commercial exploitation.

But the words above, from The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam, happen to pop into my mind today, and they struck me as somehow appropriate for St Valentine’s. The words are really Edward Fitzgerald’s, since his ‘translation’ is in reality his own composition, a fine poem of the English language, inspired by the Persian Khayyam.

A loaf of bread beneath the bough
As seen by Edmund Dulac

That quatrain seems particularly apt when accompanied by the Edmund Dulac's illustration, reprinted in the edition my grandmother owned and, according to the inscription, gave me in September 1980.

There’s plenty wrong with the illustration. The man holds the book, and he’s lying down with bread and wine next to him. The woman is standing, ready apparently to serve, and offering nothing but herself and her looks.

On the other hand, there is a haunting quality to the picture that touches me all the same, a peace, a stillness, as well as the elegance and stylisation – just look at the overdone crescent moon in the background, its horns stretching far further than is natural. It creates an effect that is otherworldly, while it makes one think, and above all admire.

It all seems to fit with the poetry. A little sustenance to feed the body; a little wine to lubricate the soul; a little verse to charm the mind; and the company of two people with all the qualities to enjoy them. Yes, even on their own, on the edge of the wilderness, as the previous quatrain proclaims:

With me along the strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown

There we can create our own little morsel of Paradise against all the annoyance of everyday life. That strikes me as a better way to celebrate Valentine’s day than any card, or even a bunch of flowers.

Danielle and I will probably watch a little TV rather than read any poetry. But we’ll raise a glass to each other anyway. And then I might raise another to my grandmother. It’s in the copy of the Rubáiyát she gave me that I keep a drawing of her when she was thirty.

My grandmother, Yeta Bannister
At 30 years of age, in 1930

To be honest, I enjoy it as much as the picture. Or the verse.

Have a great Valentine’s.