The poem must not charm us like a film: See, in the war-torn city, that reckless, gallant Handsome lieutenant turn to the wet-lipped blonde (Our childhood fixation) for one sweet desperate kiss In the broken room, in blue cinematic moonlight -- Bombers across that moon, and the bombs falling, The last train leaving, the regiment departing -- And their lips lock, saluting themselves and death: And then the screen goes dead and all go home . . . Ritual of the false imagination. The poem must not charm us like the fact: A warship can sink a circus at forty miles, And art, love's lonely counterfeit, has small dominion Over those nightmares that move in the actual sunlight. The blonde will not be faithful, nor her lover ever return Nor the note be found in the hollow tree of childhood -- This dazzle of the facts would have us weeping The orphaned fantasies of easier days. It is the charm which the potential has That is the proper aura for the poem. Though ceremony fail, though each of your grey hairs Help string a harp in the landlord's heaven, And every battle, every augury, Argue defeat, and if defeat itself Bring all the darkness level with our eyes -- It is the poem provides the proper charm, Spelling resistance and the living will, To bring to dance a stony field of fact And set against terror exile or despair The rituals of our humanity. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WILD HONEYSUCKLE by PHILIP FRENEAU TO A CHILD DURING SICKNESS by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT PROMETHEUS by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE VANITY OF THE WORLD by FRANCIS QUARLES THE EVENING CLOUD by JOHN WILSON (1785-1854) PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 46. AL-WASI'H by EDWIN ARNOLD |