Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE MAY MORNING AND THE OLD MAN, by MARGARET LOUISA WOODS Poet's Biography First Line: The morn is very clear, the young morn Last Line: Listen, listen and follow! Alternate Author Name(s): Woods, Mrs. Margaret Louisa Bradley Subject(s): Old Age; Solitude; Loneliness | ||||||||
I THE Morn is very clear, the young Morn Looks on the Earth, imagining all the Earth Is as herself, new-born. She beholds the hills, the dim colourless hills Over the City of Towers Dark in the valley; drowning mists flow round it, Ghosts of dead rivers, stealing through the valley. Morn smiles on the Earth. Answering, the hills put on their colours clear, Young corn and copses gay and hawthorn trees, Fair as enchanted towers Built of young dreams and bright with dawns from afar, Out of silver mists uprises the blond City. It is Morn, it is May, And Earth a moment imagines herself new-born. II But the Old Man For him it never can be morn again. Beside the haystack in the field he slept, But weary is he yet, though he has slumbered. The load is very light upon his shoulders, Yet are his shoulders bowed, And like a laden man he climbs the hill: He cannot dream his youth returned again. Slowly he climbs, his shadow creeps Before him, climbing the long white hill. His shadow is weary and backward creeps, Hanging about his weary feet. The climbing lark sings overhead, And hark! the merry bicyclists, Behind him on the hill. THE BICYCLISTS' REVEILLÉ Under the hedges the parsley is white, The hedges are white with May, Hither we come in the early light, In the fresh of the waking day. Listen, listen and follow! There's a sunbeam star on your window-pane, The cuckoo cries, "We are here!" And the swish of the wheel down the long white lane Merrily hums in your ear. Listen, listen and follow! Swooping and skimming high in their flight, Mock us, our mates of the air. Up from the valley and down from the height, Farther than you shall we fare. Listen, listen and follow! The workaday world has foundered afar, Under the sheen of the dew. Come where a world like a flower, like a star, Spins for an hour in the blue. Listen, listen and follow! They have climbed the hill, they have conquered the height, They meet new airs from distant skies, Telling how far and fair it lies, The Land of Morn, the undiscovered. And swiftly springing from earth away, As birds on rush of wings speeding, Over the brow the bicyclists hurry To the uninhabited, undiscovered Wonderful world of Youth and Morning. III The solitary fields are wide Where bright the narrow rivers run. The buttercups of burnished gold Uplift their triumph in the sun. THE BUTTERCUPS' REVEILLÉ Brave, brave banners of gold! See how we wave Banners of gold, Lift them up from the dark mould! Sun, sun, flower of the skies! We too have begun. Thou dost the skies We the gilded Earth surprise. Earth, Air, never were seen Half so fair Before, with sheen Of gold above their blue and green. Bright wings, messengers bold, Tell how the Spring's Banners of gold Flaming over the Earth unfold! In the Land of Youth and Morning All things seem but new begun, The Wonder and the Joy of Life Uplift their triumph in the Sun. IV THE BICYCLISTS Hither away where the waters gleam And meadows are buttercup-dyed, Over arches grey where Time is a dream And rivers of Avalon glide! Listen, listen and follow! Silver gauze the mists are floating, Silver gleams the rivers showing Among the golden, golden fields Where willows spread their veils of green. V The Old Man comes to the brow alone. He does not behold the Land of Morning, But far away he beholds familiar hills. And in the fallow, solitary And old as he is solitary Himself and old, he sees a man, A tall man, leaning upon his hoe. The wanderer fain would speak awhile, Telling the sorrow of his soul And all his weariness to one That like himself is old. His voice is high and his speech sways Slowly with slow words, as the boughs In wind of summer sway; for so Did country folk talk long ago. First Old Man. Mester, be't vur to Chillingbourne? Second Old Man. To Chillingbourne? 1st O. M. Ay, for 'tis yonder I must go. To Chillingbourne across the down. 2nd O. M. Why, Mester, that's a longish roäd, To Chillingbourne, a steepish roäd. Clear over hills you see un climb, Yonder so white's a thread he goes Betwix the Clumpes and away To Chillingbourne beyond the downs. 1st O. M. How vur be't, Mester, do 'ee know? 2nd O. M. Nay, Mester, but a longish roäd. Myself I never took no j'y In travelling, nor can rightly tell How fur it be, but a great way To Chillingbourne across the downs. 1st O. M. It bean't for j'y I taäk the roäd. But, Mester, I be getten awld. Do seem as though in all the e'th There bean't no plaäce, No room on e'th for awld volk. 2nd O. M. The e'th do lie Yonder, so wide as Heaven a'most, And God as made un Made room, I warr'nt, for all Christian souls. 1st O. M. The Union, Mester, Wer plaäce for me, they said. Aw dear! Yet I can work and toil more willin' Than young uns will. The world, Mester, It be so chaänged, so chaänged it be! They wun't gi' no work to awld volk. 2nd O. M. Nay, Mester, I do get a job Most times o' year, for folks do know me Through all the plaäce. Ha'n't ee no frien's Down yonder, where ee come from? Home Be best, to my thinking. 1st O. M. Hwome be best, Ay that it be! I wer a straänger At Marlden. Now as Jeän be dead, Union they said wer plaäce for me. They're cruel hard at Marlden, Mester. 2nd O. M. Ay, Mester, that be hard. 1st O. M. I wer a straänger And furrin like down Marlden way. "Mesters," says I, "I be agwine hwome." Vor I wer barn at Chillingbourne, At Chillingbourne acrass the down. 2nd O. M. God give ee luck and bring ee safe, For, Mester, you've a longish roäd To travel. Won't ee wet yer throät And eat a bit for company? 1st O. M. Well I wun't say But I'll be glad o' summat, Mester. 2nd O. M. Us can sit down Under the May-bush. He do smell Sweeter nor spices, what were brought To Solomon in all his glory. Lord, it do seem Like yesterday I heard un tell In church o' myrrh and frankincense And pomegranate, and kep on smelling At hawthorn-flower stuck in my coät: Yet I were a lad then. 1st O. M. Time he do pass. 2nd O. M. So smooth and slick as water runs Under a bridge. There's many a while I've leaned and watched un run as clear Over saäme pebbles and the shaäde O' bridge a-movin'. 'Twere hard to think it never wer The saäme water, but allays passing And changing. That be so's our years, To my thinking. 1st O. M. Time do pass. Be varty year come Lady Day Sin' I were hwome at Chillingbourne. 2nd O. M. Whoy, Mester, fourty year Be a longish time. Ye'll find a deal o' change. 1st O. M. There wun't be nowt a-chaänged at Chillingbourne; Chillingbourne be a main loänsome plaäce. When I were a chile A scarin' birds from the veäld all the day, Up o' the downland agen the road, I mind the hours 'ud creep and go That slow, And niver nowt a-coming along the road; Unless maybe dust marchin' with the wind. Nowt but a lark Overhead to hear, or a scud o' plover Passin' and cryin' loänsome like. 2nd O. M. Ben't ee afeared to miss your way, Wi noön to ask? 1st O. M. Not I, Mester! I mind the way, the straät road To Chillingbourne acrass the down. But ee doan't see nowt o' tree nor house Till edge o' the hill; Then plump onto roof o' church tower Seems ee med drop, and tops o' trees Wi' rooks beneath ee cawin' and flittin'. And ee see as plaän the length of the streat And th' aäncient Cross Under the elm, what Cromwell broke. There bean't nowt a-chaänged yonder, No chaänge, I warr'nt, at Chillingbourne. 2nd O. M. And ee've gotten your friends yet a-livin'? 1st O. M. Gearge he be shepherd at Manor Varm, There do he bide. My darter Jeän, her's I've buried, Wrote to un unst and he made answer. How many years be that a-gone? Naäy, surely! I cann't a-tellbut Brother Gearge, Younger nor me by seven year, Ain't a-got no call to die. 2nd O. M. Death do go withouten order Up and down upon the earth. 1st O. M. I tell ee Gearge Were a lusty chap; and Vicar he knowed Why there! The awld man be dead! But new un, said Gearge, were a sight better. He'll find I a job, he will for sure. 2nd O. M. It's like he will. I ha' gotten a job Most times o' year. 1st O. M. It be work I want But I were a straänger Marlden waäy; Went there courtin' my wife as died Aäteen year come September. The las' day, Mother were living, I mind her said: "Tom'll be sorry in time to come He bided away and never did wed Cousin Bessie." She married well Did Cousin Bess, and she ain't a-forgotten Me for sure, if she be alive. 2nd O. M. There be as remembers, there be as forgets. 1st O. M. Well, I must be a-gettin' hwome! I thankee, Mester, an' wish 'ee luck. Aw dear! I never thowt, When sprack an' young I stepped awaäy, How I'd come hwome! I niver thowt I'd care to lay My boäns at last where Mother's lie, In churchyard, under th' aäncient tower. 2nd O. M. Good day to ee, Mester, an good luck! I wish ee safe at journey's end Afore't be dark. 1st O. M. At vall o' night Curvew do ring to guide ee hwome To Chillingbourne acrass the down. The Old Man on his journey passed alone, That way his shadow led, straight down the road. Below him lay Earth in the gold and glory of the time, Rejoicing Earth, decked with the light of waters. But he beheld her not. Only beyond, Lovely and dim, he saw the remembered hills. VI THE BICYCLISTS' RETURN Back to the workaday world, the old, As errant mariners fleet, With spices laden and secret gold, Or lovers with thoughts more sweet. Listen, listen and follow! Back to the workaday world anew, To the crowd and the toil away! But our hearts have been dipped in the morning dew And the light of the early day. Listen, listen and follow! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN ABEYANCE by DENISE LEVERTOV IN A VACANT HOUSE by PHILIP LEVINE SUNDAY ALONE IN A FIFTH FLOOR APARTMENT, CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS by WILLIAM MATTHEWS SILENCE LIKE COOL SAND by PAT MORA THE HONEY BEAR by EILEEN MYLES |
|