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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
CHRISTMAS, MADISON SQUARE, by GLADYS CROMWELL Poet's Biography First Line: In dismal darkness stands the christmas pine Last Line: Ascends. Subject(s): Christianity; Poverty; Solitude; Loneliness | |||
IN dismal darkness stands the Christmas pine The Orthodox have put up for a sign Among the sombre trees that mark the Square. Oh, there are moral people everywhere Indulge the doctrine still of "doing good;" They brought the tree uprooted from the wood. Like oranges or apples of warm gold Are bulbs of gleaming light the branches hold, And yet that golden fruit no languor drenches! Below, the motley company Is like a shadow, neither spiced nor gay, That hovers wearily to huddled benches. On one of these a woman sits alone; More poor than thirsting youth for being older. She's leaning on her arm. Her slanted shoulder Says more clear than any word she's lonely. She yields the icy wind her neck and hair; Her lids are closed. A foil of softer air Brings vision of the forest her first lover Wove into his Poetry. To-night her shivering fancy can recover The scene of a June world remote and free; The tones of mist and of blue mirrored hills. A long-unheeded beauty pain distils. Like the earth under pines is the way where her memories pass: She sees old orchards stifled in fresh grass, The shapes of little apple trees Scared of the wind's gathering, on their knees; The spires of larch rising in quiet skies; The elm with parted stem and foliage drooping; The mothering willow stooping To kiss the stream; And the companionable pine. Within the magic of the Christmas light, She hears hushed words of love, as in the night One hears on stones the flowing of a brook. But in the Square about the tree there's singing; And now the winter wind her cheek is stinging; Her aching soul can feel the heavy frost. She could not live on what her craft was earning; To satisfy the dream her youth kept burning, And she was ignorant of what love cost. To the blind strength of love her body shook, And to the joy of love her longing darted; Now she's lonely and she's broken-hearted. The Fate that still prevents her choice to-day Is Poverty, a Fate that mars The slow unfolding spirit; Born of a longing to inherit, Like the sweet thirst of tree tops for the stars. Her sin's identity is need; Her thirst a thirst for God, reversed Until her slaved mortality is freed. Within the magic of the Christmas light, Her soul -- like snow, blossoms, foam -- is white; And her desire is fine, Unswerving as the pine. After vision of those freer places, She fumbles to her feet. We lose her in a throng of faces. She drifts into the crevice of a street. The pine tree boughs divide In search of spaces wide; Life unsatisfied Ascends. | 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 |
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