By John Schwartzentruber
“And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days…” Those words first fell on my hearing nearly 60 years ago as Dad and I walked outside in the morning, soaking up the sights and sounds of springtime. Something about those perfect mornings in June seemed to repeatedly inspire him to recite part of an old poem that he had memorized in his own school-boy days.
Those unforgettable moments embedded themselves in my memory, perennially roused by the delightful arrival of the exquisite month of June. But there was something about those two lines that hinted of much more.
It was only in later years that I searched for the source of those timeless lines. What I discovered was a peerless work of art in the form of a poetic parable written around 1848 by James Russell Lowell, entitled “The Vision of Sir Launfal”. (It’s a lengthy, inspiring read, but what is time, when well invested?)
Legend has it that Sir Launfal was a young Knight of King Arthur’s Round Table who set out in search of the lost Holy Grail, that mystical cup passed around the table at the Last Supper. Mythology claimed that it needed to be found and properly kept to honor the name of Christ.
Fresh in the strength of youthful passion, Sir Launfal dons his shiny armor, mounts his charger and dashes out from his dark castle to seek the Cup. The poet, Lowell, illustrates the young knight’s energetic fervor by describing the irrepressible vigor of nature poured out in the month of June, as seen in these lines:
“And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays:
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;
Every clod feels a stir of might,
An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And, grasping blindly above it for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers…”
But as Sir Launfal springs forth on the mission, his zeal is shriveled by the repulsive sight of a leprous beggar by the gate, seeking alms. The haughty knight scornfully tosses a gold coin into the dust but the beggar does not pick it up because, “He gives nothing but worthless gold, Who gives from a sense of duty…”
After enduring many hardships, Sir Launfal discovers that, rather than lofty aspiration, honoring Christ begins with serving the most humble, nearby need. His once-selfish and heartless ambitions meant nothing. He then shares the remaining crusts of his moldy bread with the beggar who, in turn, considers it a feast.
And with his vision and calling now made clear, Sir Launfal turns to the beggar, who represented “the least of these my brethren” :
“And Sir Launfal said, – “I behold in thee
An image of Him who died on the tree;
Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, –
Thou also hast had the world’s buffets and scorns, –
And to thy life were not denied
The wounds in the hands and feet and side:
Mild Mary’s Son, acknowledge me;
Behold, through him, I give to thee!””
Nearly 200 years ago, James Russell Lowell shared his captivating power with words to portray both the beauty of the natural world and the message of grace. Also with lasting effect, Dad spoke from his learning and love of literature and thus contributed to my own. Both were moved to share what inspired them, leaving a lasting gift.
Link to the poem:
https://d.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/text/lowell-vision-of-sir-launfal
