Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE LONG SEASON, by ALICE MONKS MEARS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LONG SEASON, by                    
First Line: Now when all slopes and fields not crushed by storm
Last Line: The mortal increase.
Subject(s): Botany And Botanists; Flowers; Nature; Seasons


Now when all slopes and fields not crushed by storm
color, ripen and move with lovers,
I think of the botanist and his wildflower; what he discovers
of that inaudible struggle below our battles;
how the flower with disaster and triumph evolves its form;
how that slight thing full of desire in sun and dusk
tempts, evades, conceals, selects, accurately
adapts itself to ruby-throat or bee.

The least wildflower with the least name —
the pointed blue-grass, marl-grass, deer-grass, fire-weed,
jewel-weed, lark-heel, in the least field,
stone-clover, wake-robin, watershield —
schemes for increase. The proud hold single aim:
Turk's-cap lily in common need
perfects the corolla of a gay extravagance,
the nectary deep, sealed.
The white lovers, the gold lovers, the unknown brides
by twilight luminous where the sphinx moth glides
in strict purpose lay their snares of fragrance.

Now the human flowering is set against alarm
of slaughter; repeats the lesser bloom's intent: endure.
War's long season is love's summer, to release
the great bees of fear. Noon-loud they rise and stir meadows
swaying with girls, vivid and fecund to assure
the mortal increase.





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