Poem of the Week: “Evening”

As far as I know, this poem was never published during Chesterton’s lifetime: he wrote it down in a notebook somewhere when he was about 21 and kept it to himself. True, it’s not as intricate as Chesterton’s later poems and the style seems quite unlike him, but for whatever reason, I think this might be my favorite Chesterton poem.


by G. K. Chesterton

Here dies another day
During which I have had eyes, ears, hands
And the great world round me;
And with tomorrow begins another.
Why am I allowed two?


4 thoughts on “Poem of the Week: “Evening”

  1. I think this poem, more than any of his others, gets to the heart of why I love his writing so much. Sure, he’s funny, and he’s brilliant, and he’s biting when necessary – but I always get the sense that he has his eyes wide open. He takes nothing for granted. He knows “how rare and beautiful it is to even exist.”

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes! That’s exactly what I wanted to say, but I wasn’t quite sure how to say it. In his essays, his poems, and even in his detective stories, he seems to be so awed by every single thing in creation, and humbled that he gets to be a part of it. I think this poem perfectly encapsulates Chesterton’s way of looking at the world. (Also, double points for quoting Sleeping at Last. πŸ˜‰ )

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Bingo. His writing and characters are marked by that sense of… wonder. And awe. And just being generally thrilled at life. It’s catching, too. Hard to be discontent or cynical while immersed in The Napoleon of Notting Hill or Father Brown.

        I’m pretty sure Chesterton would be listening to Sleeping At Last if he were alive today. πŸ™‚

        Liked by 1 person

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