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Unread 11-14-2000, 01:18 PM
Alan Sullivan Alan Sullivan is offline
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Join Date: Aug 2000
Location: South Florida, US
Posts: 6,536
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Because we have been talking about Blake (at times) I decided to post this poem which makes much play with Blake's manner and method.

The Australian poet, A. D. Hope, recently reached the end of his long and colorful life. He has left a varied and profound body of work: criticism, letters, drama, and several volumes of verse. He despised vers libre and prematurely pronounced it dead in 1957.

This poem is atypically short for Hope, which makes it convenient for posting. In another respect, however, this poem is quite characteristic. Hope often toyed with mimesis, and he favored Eighteenth Century voices, though he could do a mean Auden as well. Mimesis is a topic that has always intrigued me. It transcends mere parody, a skill that any apprentice should master. True mimesis, I believe, is only possible for a poet who already has found or formed an individual voice.

The Watcher

Can the tree that grows in grief
Rooted in its own despair
Crown its head with bud and leaf,
Blossom and enrich the air?

Can the bird that on the bough
Tries the ripeness of the fruit,
Taste the agony below,
Know the worm that cuts the root?

In a dream I saw my tree
Clothed in paradisal white,
Every branch in ecstasy
Spread its odors on the night;

Lovers walking two by two
Felt their own delight expressed,
And the bird that thither flew
Chose its branches for her nest;

Childred in a laughing tide
Thronged it round to taste and see:
"See the shining fruit," they cried,
"See the happy, blossoming tree!"

You along among them there
Came with your divining heart,
Breathed that still, enchanted air,
Felt your tears in anguish start,

And the passion of your woe
At the sweetness of the fruit
Watered all the ground below,
Touched and healed the wounded root.

Then the bird among the leaves
Checked its song in sad surmise;
Then the lover saw what grieves
In the depth of human eyes;

But the children at your side
Took your hands and laughed to see
"O the shining fruit," they cried.
"O the happy, happy tree!"

Alec Derwent Hope




[This message has been edited by Alan Sullivan (edited 11-14-2000).]
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