Poetry Sunday

It's pretty disheartening nowadays to watch the way people behave toward each other. Much of our social interaction seems to be in the form of shouting, like Representative Jim Jones substituting volume for thought, or the screaming of fools insisting that their inalienable rights are being mercilessly trampled if they have to wear a mask for the protection of others.

And the law seems less focused nowadays on justice than on crushing dissent ... unless you're on the flag-waving, gun-toting political right, that is.

Today I find some comfort in this piece - not a poem, per se, but lines spoken by Portia in Act 4 of Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice ...

The Quality of Mercy

by William Shakespeare

The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest,—
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The thronèd monarch better than his crown:
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway,—
It is enthronèd in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God’s,
When mercy seasons justice.

One hopes that mercy and justice will provide the seasoning for the remainder of this sad year.

Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts coming.

Bilbo