I'm looking for a poem by Paul Engle that ends with the line:

"Wisdom is knowing when you can't be wise."

Thanks in advance,
Veronika

Well, a short stroll with Mr. Google and I am informed that it is somewhere in Engle's book 'Poems in Praise' published by Random House in 1959. The which contains thirty poems. I expect, though, that you already know this and are after the actual poem and context. Perhaps somebody has this book. It's a gnomic little phrase; I wonder why he writes '...when you can't be wise' rather than the more banal '... when you don't know.' Or something like that. It's a nice difference. Good luck.

Thank you, Paul.

I finally found a recording of the poem read by the author. Here it is transcribed:

You can't be wise

Denied, she screamed in rage and ran away.
I yelled, she halted, rigid in her going,
water frozen in the act of flowing.
Then suddenly her fearful face turned gay
I'll come right back she called and laughed.
Like wood amazed at turning into violin,
at having such a sweet wild voice within,
she was amazed at turning into good.
Bright as a fragment of the first creation
her hand took mine and I could feel it glow
for love was in her like a lamentation.
What does a mere man do with such suprise?
Don't punish, give your love and simply know
wisdom is knowing when you can't be wise.



Post Edited (05-17-05 17:37)

It's no good, if you can't eat it.

Excellent! Thanks for sending it along. Strange rhyme with laughed and good, though. Somehow it seems ok, what with the 'wood' in the 2nd line above, dunno why.

"Strange rhyme with laughed and good, though. Somehow it seems ok, what with the 'wood' in the 2nd line above, dunno why."

I thought so, too. Maybe Engle tries to recreate the amazement coming from within her - instead of a rhyme you expect, there is an internal rhyme.

Veronika



Post Edited (05-19-05 14:18)

It's no good, if you can't eat it.

Oh, heck, I just noticed the IP stumble. Perhaps it reads this way?:


"Denied!" she screamed in rage and ran away.
I yelled, she halted, rigid in her going,
water frozen in the act of flowing.
Then suddenly her fearful face turned gay.

"I'll come right back!" she called and laughed, like wood
amazed at turning into violin,
at having such a sweet wild voice within,
she was amazed at turning into good.

Bright as a fragment of the first creation
her hand took mine and I could feel it glow
for love was in her like a lamentation.

What does a mere man do with such suprise?
Don't punish, give your love and simply know
wisdom is knowing when you can't be wise.

A good solution. And you have added punctuation :-)

A quick look at the meter, I would say he is using a four beat rythm instead of a iambic pentameter. That would make the line 5 a bit long, and line 6 too short. But I guess variation in meter would be more acceptable than failing to follow the rhyming scheme.

I find the poem wonderful and interesting, because of its dramatic beginning, that then turns around and becomes unexpectably soft, flowing. And often feeling unwise, I like the last line.