Camomile Tea
by Katherine Mansfield
Outside the sky is light with stars;
There's a hollow roaring from the sea. And, alas! for the little almond flowers,
The wind is shaking the almond tree.
How little I thought, a year ago,
In the horrible cottage upon the Lee
That he and I should be sitting so
And sipping a cup of camomile tea.
Light as feathers the witches fly,
The horn of the moon is plain to see;
By a firefly under a jonquil flower
A goblin toasts a bumble-bee.
We might be fifty, we might be five,
So snug, so compact, so wise are we!
Under the kitchen-table leg
My knee is pressing against his knee.
Our shutters are shut, the fire is low,
The tap is dripping peacefully;
The saucepan shadows on the wall
Are black and round and plain to see.
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1 comment:
A. Bri...That was a lovely poem...I wouldn't call it "lovey dovey" at all! It was evocative, sensual, present. Bravo!
B. Breaking News: A beagle (!), (Uno), won the big dog show! Go beagles... (We have many beagle fans in the English Department).
C. One of my old favorites, mostly because my wife and I "recreated" the scene...to some extent...years ago when we were in New England and visited Martha's Vineyard.I believe that what makes a poem great is what it can evoke for each of us as individuals...that special connection we make with a poem...what Robert Frost calls, "The immortal wound; once heard, never forgotten." More than the "quality", or popularity, or so on, what does the poem mean to...evoke in...me.
Edna St.Vincent Millay (1892-1951)
Recuerdo
WE were very tired, we were very merry—
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable—
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon;
And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.
We were very tired, we were very merry—
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry;
And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear,
From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere;
And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold,
And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.
We were very tired, we were very merry,
We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
We hailed "Good morrow, mother!" to a shawl-covered head,
And bought a morning paper, which neither of us read;
And she wept, "God bless you!" for the apples and pears,
And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.
Love,
Stu
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