Helen Vendler was kind enough to respond to my recent blog post on Seamus Heaney's last words. She writes:“I think he was thinking back to his poem "The Master", which, as he told me himself, is about Milosz. You may know it. Seamus climbs precariously up the master's tower, but when he gains the Master's presence and is instructed by him, he finds the following:
Deliberately he would unclasp
his book of withholding
a page at a time, and it was nothing
arcane, just the old rules
we all had inscribed on our slates.
Each character blocked on the parchment secure
in its volume and measure.
Each maxim given its space.
Tell the truth. Do not be afraid.
Durable, obstinate notions,
like quarrymen's hammers and wedges
proofed by intransigent service.
Like coping stones where you rest
in the balm of the wellspring.
So I think he may have been crossing his Milosz poem with the address of the risen Jesus to Mary Magdalene, saying that human touch was no longer possible between himself and this woman.”
Deliberately he would unclasp
his book of withholding
a page at a time, and it was nothing
arcane, just the old rules
we all had inscribed on our slates.
Each character blocked on the parchment secure
in its volume and measure.
Each maxim given its space.
Tell the truth. Do not be afraid.
Durable, obstinate notions,
like quarrymen's hammers and wedges
proofed by intransigent service.
Like coping stones where you rest
in the balm of the wellspring.
So I think he may have been crossing his Milosz poem with the address of the risen Jesus to Mary Magdalene, saying that human touch was no longer possible between himself and this woman.”
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