Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO M. W., by WILLIAM WATSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO M. W., by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Kind, gentle friend, brought strangely low
Last Line: As dances at her heart to-day.
Alternate Author Name(s): Watson, John William
Subject(s): Life; Night; Seasons; Bedtime


KIND, gentle friend, brought strangely low
By cruel blow on cruel blow;
You that so helpless here have lain,
Oft in the iron clutch of pain, --
Your tresses drifting like the Night
Over your pillow's world of white, --
Since April passed with gusty roar,
Till now great June is at the door:
Can it be true that all these weeks
You have but watched the endless freaks
Of clouds that without purpose roam,
Or seen the straggling rooks go home,
Or caught, with half-rebellious sigh,
(From thrush or blackbird trilling nigh)
Just for a moment, that wild thing,
The very soul of very Spring?

What can I counsel? Naught indeed:
For trite and tedious is the rede
That says: "Be patient and resigned,
And brave in heart and braced in mind."
All this, and more, you are! And though
The journey back to health be slow,
You have about you on the way
Kindred who tend you night and day,
Strewing the path with blossoms sweet
To make it softer for your feet.

And you shall yet arise and see
Earth in her summer majesty;
Shall see her raised to height of pride,
Unboding yet of Autumntide;
Shall see her gorgeous in the brief
Pomp of the fated reddening leaf.
And lastly, all her revels o'er
And she a thing of joy no more, --
When she is pinched and gaunt and chill,
The torpid slave of Winter's will, --
In your own veins such life shall play
As dances at her heart to-day.





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