Unsuspected Kindness

 On today's Anecdotal Evidence, Patrick Kurp writes of the 'unsuspected kindness' of which, happily, the world still has abundant supply. He leads up to the subject by way of an anecdote about an exemplary act of kindness – of Christian charity – by that great poet and man, George Herbert, as recounted in Walton's life of Herbert, and turned into poetry by R.S. Gwynn, in a fine poem, 'Music at Midnight'. I must confess I had never heard of R.S. Gwynn, an American poet and anthologist who is, according to Wikipedia, 'associated with New Formalism', which is generally a good sign. He is, according to Dana Gioia, 'an effortless master of verse forms', and he seems to have a way with humorous and 'light verse'. Here is one, a paraphrase of Hopkins, that actually had me laughing out loud –

Fried Beauty

Glory be to God for breaded things—

   Catfish, steak finger, pork chop, chicken thigh,

         Sliced green tomatoes, pots full to the brim

With french fries, fritters, life-float onion rings,

    Hushpuppies, okra golden to the eye,

            That in all oils, corn or canola, swim

Toward mastication’s maw (O molared mouth!);

    Whatever browns, is dumped to drain and dry

             On paper towels’ sleek translucent scrim,

These greasy, battered bounties of the South:

                            Eat them.

   As for unsuspected kindness, Mrs Nige, who has similar mobility problems to Patrick, is often pleasantly surprised by the kindness of strangers, even in that wicked city, London. Here in the city of philosophers, of course, the milk of human kindness flows abundantly in every soul.