I have been a spendthrift Dropping from lazy fingers Quiet coloured hours, Fluttering away from me Like oak and beech leaves in October. I have lived keenly and wastefully, Like a bush or a sun insect- Lived sensually and thoughtfully, Loving the flesh and the beauty of this world- Green ivy about ruined towers, The out-pouring of the grey sea, And the ecstasy Of a pale clear sky at sunset. I have been prodigal of love For cities and for lonely places; I have tried not to hate mankind; I have gathered sensations Like ripe fruits in a rich orchard… All this is gone; There are no leaves, no sea, No shade of a rich orchard, Only a sterile, dusty waste, Empty and threatening. I long vainly for solitude And the lapse of silent hours; I am frantic to throw off My heavy cloth and leather garments, To set free my feet and body; And I am so far from beauty That a yellow daisy seems to clutch my heart With eager searching petals, And I am grateful even to humility For the taste of pure, clean bread. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 64 by PHILIP SIDNEY ELEGIAC SONNET: 2. WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF SPRING by CHARLOTTE SMITH OF THE LAST VERSES IN THE BOOK by EDMUND WALLER LILIES: 12. 'YET I ENDURE.' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) IMPROVEMENT IN THE FORTIES by THOMAS BARNARD |