THE SPLENDOUR OF THE COMMONPLACE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21159, 16 April 1932, Page 6 (Supplement)

THE SPLENDOUR OF THE COMMONPLACE.

POETS AND MYSTICS. WHAT KEATS HEARD. BY NINA KING COME WATTY.

Commonplace things are splendid things. flThf. poets and tho mystics have always known it. For want of this knowledge Jwe are blind to all that they have seen, deaf to all that they have heard, and dead to that which touched their souls, to +he eloquence of song and to the majesty of vision. Ihe preciousnesa of common, things, their significance, their charm, their very splendour—the sense of this gives us communion with the immortals. What Keats heard in the song of the lark, what Burns saw in the simple domestic life of the Scottish cottar, what LAmiel visioned in the common life of meiy should be the heritage of every child of Adam. If we could trace through the devious of n lifetime the quiet, pri\ ate ivrays and happenings of our daily existence we should find that it is against the background of common things that individuality reveals its finest quality and that iu the small routines of everyday life we have gained our most frequent and poignant thrills of happiness. Memorable and unexpected encounters with

friends, sudden and unpremeditated acquisitions of trivial household gods, in Addition to glorifying the moments, have left us with rich memories for the years. There is distinction and beauty in

homely tasks, in daily routines and even in so-called drudgeries. The family meal, "taken together after the busy day may, Tightly seen, become a sacrament. Fugitive, elusive things, lost to notice by constant happening, have in them all the thrill of recurrent delight. The slants of the afternoon sun across the lawn, the distant barking of a dog in the quiet •darkness, the comfortable crooning of hens in the soft warmth of a summer day, the fragrance of coffee stealing across garden dew in the pause of early morning labour—all these common little joys of the senses have their touch of glory. Men faced with big things—the soldier st the wars, or the man whose task takes him from home and adored ones, crave for news of the common happenings of feveryday living. The big certainties, life, (death, , immortality, they take for granted. But their letters to dear ones breathe the longing for knowledge of the small, intimate, homely things they have left behind. Absence from the common hearth, with its common round and its common routine, has given them prescience of the true realities and maybe for the first time they are realising the greatness of small and unconsidered things, accepted without thought and now found .--to be the.very fabric of happiness. For the first time, perhaps, they are aware of the real comfort of home, of the sanc-

tity of fresh clothing ready to hand at the right moment, of the music of affectionate voices, of the worth of familiar attentions, and of the wealth and glory that lie in the touch of daily, friendly things. They are. tasting what some true mystic has called the sacrament of the present moment. Persons ol Character. They have found the distinction, even the divinity that lies in the commonplace, and the universe that exists in the unconsidered. Most persons of character have distinctive individual ways of meeting the common routine of day-to-day existence, ways that they themselves often find it hard to defend and quite impossible to reform. They are the tribute individuality pays to the worth of the Like Mrs. Gummidge they f- i'eel it ' more.

In family life it is from the commonplace lhat there accumulates the legacy of custom which the children take into the iWcrld as part °f their heritage. No Blatter how ordinary the origin, any simple, unvarying custom, followed for a lorig time, gathers power to stir the imagination. Little household ways, insignificant ns they may seem at the moment, become in time something more than trivialities. Out of the glory of the commonplace may be woven the tapestry »f beautiful custom which will live in following generations as rich recurront memories, steadying character in moments of insecurity and supplying from the past strength and sanity for the present. There nro men and women who see so clearlv the worth and splendour of the ordinary that they are artists in the creation of .enduring customs that children love and Jtvill always remember. The " hidden splendour " which Browning saw in every man lies, too, in tho heart of the commonplace. The price to be paid for tho realisation of these things is sometimes high, but once realised, tho quality of our inner life may acquire new 'distinction. Each day brings its wealth cf commonplace. Divine dawns, glorious noons, soft, enfolding nights, treasures of friendships, 'ennobling duties, routine tasks, unsought generosities are among tho medley of common things among which our feet must move from day to day. are poor indeed if t hoy bring us no moments exquisite, humorous or gracious, that will servo in years to come as a saving force in times of distress and doubt.