I'm going to step out of character and post a poem which is not intended to provoke an argument. I should say, however, that I haven't scanned this poem -- I don't bother to scan poems that sound right to me.

I find this poem to be spare, elegant and profound, so spare that it approaches a kind of formalist minimalism. I also appreciate it because she wrote it at the end of her life, providing evidence that, at least in some instances, talent blossoms with age. I have never seen any other poem by Sarton that I loved so much.

A Handful of Thyme

“What are you doing
Now the end is not far?
Remembering? Ruing?”
“No rue, my dear.”

“Are you still seeding?”
“Now and then I do.”
“You are frail for weeding,
And the weeds grow.”

“Yes, the weeds flourish.
Too brief the hours
When I can still nourish
Poems or flowers.”

“The muses have died?”
“Not died. I must be
My own muse beside
My own mystery.

And the memories move
Without warning to break
Happiness, even love
For poetry’s sake.”

“But what will you keep
When you can’t even rhyme?”
“Sleep, my dear, sleep
And a handful of thyme.”

May Sarton

No disagreement on this, Caleb. A lovely poem. A few of the lines are metrically daring, but they work in context, as the poem is spoken. I hope you have read the poem "His Running My Running," which I posted a little way down the adjacent Francis thread. It also uses short lines and highly condensed language to convey the sentiment of someone elderly. When there is little time left, perhaps the long line seems too long winded to some. But A. D. Hope wrote a masterwork in dactyllic hexameter when he was over eighty, so there are exceptions to that rule.

Alan Sullivan

I'm glad you like this poem. I appreciate your introducing me to Francis, by the way -- those are lovely poems. Were his poems ever published in a collected works volume?


[This message has been edited by Caleb Murdock (edited December 04, 2000).]

Two books of Francis' poetry are in print, so far as I know. There is a Collected, then there is a final short volume called Late Fire, Late Snow. Both are printed by the University of Massachusetts Press.

Alan