Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PINE CAMP, by GORDON BAINE CLARK First Line: There were the three of us and we were young Last Line: We hear winds in whisper with far-distant pines. Subject(s): Autumn; Camping; Seasons; Wind; Fall; Camps; Summer Camps | ||||||||
There were the three of us and we were young, Young in years, in mind, in dreams. The wind sung And we heard it, felt an answering thrill Run over us. Our feet raced to "the hill" . . . That's what we called it. A place where boulders, Lichen-traced and soft with moss where shoulders Pressed against its base, raised their crown of pine Into a sky whose breath, like some old wine, Ever sent our blood racing . . . . . . "Let's build a camp." Who has forgotten those words? Or the tramp And press through juniper? The scent of pitch Holding one's fingers in stiff embrace? Which Way should the branches hang? And where the door? Pine boughs, moss, or meadow grass for the floor? So there grew at the foot of "the hill" Our pine camp. Done, we swore a pledge: Until We lay in dust no one should know this secret Place . . . Through the star-lit summer nights, swept By the west winds, filled with ghostly moons, sweet With the fragrant breath that meadow brings To night-league with the pines, we dreamed those things Existent only in the phantasies Of youth . . . . . . Then came sweeping the chill wind-seas Of fall. Amid the gold, red, and yellow Tides our pine camp withered brown. Fell low In forgotten loneliness . . . . . . Once we three Were Jim, and Don, and Tom. Now, mature, we Believe we're, well, men . . . Yet sometimes, Restless as some midnight somewhere slowly chimes, We hear winds in whisper with far-distant pines. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OH LOVELY ROCK by ROBINSON JEFFERS TO A WOMAN GLANCING UP FROM THE RIVER by LARRY LEVIS THE SUMMER-CANP BUS PULLS AWAY FROM THE CURB by SHARON OLDS COUNTRYSIDE CAMP by CLARENCE MAJOR AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN GREEN by LINDA PASTAN THE LIGHTS IN THE SKY ARE STARS: THE GREAT NEBULA OF ANDROMEDA by KENNETH REXROTH |
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