Quatrain 36
Quatrain 36 of 75
“For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd—"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"”
Reflection · Autumn
Gently, Brother. The clay asking to be handled with care asks because it remembers. With its all obliterated tongue — everything that was human about this clay has been obliterated, but something of the experience remains, enough to murmur: gently. Brother. Not master, not craftsman. The clay and the potter are made of the same material. The potter doing the thumping will eventually become clay that someone else's hands work.
In autumn this verse is deeply moving. The market-place at dusk in Mehr — the last buyers and sellers of the day, the light going amber, the potter's hands still working the wet clay. The murmur is barely audible. Gently. We have all been clay before. We will be clay again.