Benedicite: An invocation of blessing. Imperative form of the by James Russell Lowell

Benedicite translates from Latin to "bless ye" or "praise ye." This phrase originates from the beginning of a canticle in the Book of Common Prayer, which invites all of creation—sun, moon, stars, and seas—to bless and praise God. Lowell takes this expansive idea and relates it to his personal encounters with nature and his intellectual life.

The note directs us to the ninth strophe of Wordsworth's Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood. In that stanza, Wordsworth depicts the soul as emerging from an "immortal sea," envisioning children playing at its edge. Lowell's "inspiring sea" directly reflects this imagery. Both poets grapple with the same question: what becomes of the visionary intensity of youth as we grow older? Wordsworth discovers solace; Lowell sees a reason for gratitude.

The Latin title adds a significant liturgical weight to the poem — it situates the act of blessing within a rich tradition of devotional language. It also indicates that this isn't merely a personal thank-you; it carries a more formal and universal tone, akin to a prayer that anyone could express. Lowell was addressing a well-read audience familiar with the term from church services.

The lines from Longfellow — "Come like the benediction / That follows after prayer" — establish the emotional tone even before the poem starts. They imply that Lowell's upcoming blessing comes softly, following something more significant. It's like saying: this poem is a gentle touch, not the focal point. The essence — life, nature, experience — has already unfolded.

Both Wordsworth and Lowell are older men reflecting on their past. They're grappling with the fear that growing up leads to the loss of something vital — the ability to marvel at the world, to hold onto idealism, and to experience life as rich with meaning. They both assert that this loss isn't complete. Some of that initial spark still flickers, and discovering it alive and well is something to truly celebrate, not merely acknowledge with a sigh of relief.

It employs religious language and structure — the title is a liturgical term, and the format resembles a prayer — but instead of focusing on a specific deity, it blesses the natural world and human experiences. This work is part of the Romantic nature poetry tradition, which holds the natural world in the same high regard that earlier generations had for God.

The speaker is Lowell himself, or at least a version of him—an older man who has experienced enough to truly appreciate what life has offered him. The poem feels personal without being confessional; it draws from individual experience while connecting to something universal.