Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE FOREST, by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN



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THE FOREST, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Among the golden groves when june walketh there
Last Line: But not till now was I with the woods again alone.
Alternate Author Name(s): Blunden, Edmund
Subject(s): Forests; Memory; Woods


AMONG the golden groves when June walketh there
I go to find old loves in the haunted air,
And with the humble bee down the ancient rides
I pause whene'er I see where my honey hides.

But scarcely now I heed the small welcome moss
Or time's secrets read or pore on pit and fosse,
Or kindle at blooms I knew not before,
Though twayblade haunt the glooms and strange hellebore.

The pheasant crows anear, I lift not my head;
Wildcats race in fear -- as well flee the dead!
Oaks breathe and pines sigh, and all for praise,
And yet my soul divines little that each says:

But the whole wood moves again and again
Memory of old loves, perfect joy of pain;
Without words I've found the hid world at last
In the woods deep drowned, after so long past:

Not my first delight, the sweet Kentish girl,
Once ever in my sight, but gone, gone in the whirl
Of time's broken stream, till I cannot guess
Her smile or primrose gleam of new loveliness:

Not my childhood's bliss, in greenwoods to go
Where great snakes might hiss, so high reeds did grow,
And from early day till eve trembling crept,
Pioneers to stray where the black ponds slept:

But the rich hours chance gave, where dry-lipped with war
I left him to rave on his ridges not far,
And lay in a green shade of Aveluy Wood
And with those hours allayed the fever in the blood;

Not a leaf regarding, but one with the wood's soul,
All my thoughts discarding -- refreshed thence and whole
I went to live or die, and five years are flown,
But not till now was I with the woods again alone.





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