by Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones
The artist's model for the Virgin Mary was Julia Stephen,
mother of Virginia Woolf & Vanessa Bell,
and, appropriately, pregnant at the time with Vanessa.
[*Click here to see my first favorite:
"Cordelia's Portion," by Ford Maddox Brown]
To go along with Burne - Jones' painting at the Lady Lever is this magnificent poem by Denis Levertov; I love the coincidental linguistic connection between the two names! Levertov's poem "is inspired by a compelling line from the 6th century Akathisthos (sung while standing reverently) Hymn of the Orthodox Liturgy in praise of the Theotokos (Mother of God): 'Hail, space for the uncontained God.' "
(from the Akathistos Hymn, Greece, VIc)
We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,
almost always a lectern, a book; always
the tall lily.
Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.
But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.
She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.
Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
when roads of light and storm
open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from
in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.
She had been a child who played, ate, slept
like any other child – but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed
in joy not triumph.
Compassion and intelligence
fused in her, indivisible.
Called to a destiny more momentous
than any in all of Time,
she did not quail,
a simple, 'How can this be?'
and gravely, courteously,
took to heart the angel’s reply,
the astounding ministry she was offered:
to bear in her womb
Infinite weight and lightness; to carry
in hidden, finite inwardness,
nine months of Eternity; to contain
in slender vase of being,
the sum of power –
in narrow flesh,
the sum of light.
Then bring to birth,
push out into air, a Man-child
needing, like any other,
milk and love –
but who was God.
This was the minute no one speaks of,
when she could still refuse.
A breath unbreathed,
She did not cry, "I cannot, I am not worthy,"
nor "I have not the strength."
She did not submit with gritted teeth,
Bravest of all humans,
consent illumined her.
The room filled with its light,
the lily glowed in it,
and the iridescent wings.
opened her utterly.
by Denise Levertov , 1923 - 97
Politically acitve British - born American poet and educator
from her book The Door in the Hive
previously posted poems by Denis Levertov
QK: "The same war continues . . . "
FN: Taste & See
QK: Taste & See
more on The Annunciation