Deirdre McCloskey

She is probably the world’s greatest living free-market intellectual (or in her words “a postmodern free-market quantitative rhetorical Episcopalian feminist Aristotelian woman who was once a man”). I gave her a book of poems by Bernard O’Donoghue, who teaches Middle English at Wadham. She immediately recited:

Whan that Aprill, with his shoures soote

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote

And bathed every veyne in swich licour,

Of which vertu engendred is the flour;

Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne,

And smale foweles maken melodye,

That slepen al the nyght with open eye-

(So priketh hem Nature in hir corages);

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages

And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;

And specially from every shires ende

Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,

The hooly blisful martir for to seke

That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke…

“Farmers Cross” by Bernard O’Donoghue

A poignant new collection from Wadham’s best living poet. Ireland, exile and death. “The Old Second Division”, “Racho”, “Dockets”, “Dream”, “Canon”, “Casella”, “Tinkers” and “The Year’s Midnight” (dedicated to the memory of Andrew Glyn) are exquisite. I’ll quote the shortest poem.

Tontine

Survivor takes all, we reflect,

standing together in the rain

outside the crematorium

under the heron’s raucous boom

as the crows mob him overhead.

by Bernard O’Donoghue

Farmers Cross