A little bit of culture

Whilst cooking a roast this afternoon (chicken - I made the yorkshire puddings from scratch) my mum had left Radio 4 on in the background. I have no idea what programme it was, but all of a sudden I was listening to a poem I haven't heard in years. It took me back to a time when my dad would read me his favorite poetry and then being the precocious 12 year old that I was, I would read them out in English class, much to the amusement of my peers (yet another nail in my social coffin).

I remember this one in particular, remember thinking how beautiful it was, how it flowed. I didn't get it at the time, never having dared even talk to a boy, not really knowing or even comprehending how age or love or regret affect a person, maybe I still don't, but I still think its one of the most evocative poems I've ever read.

Edna St. Vincent Millay - Sonnet XLIII

"What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.

And on a lighter note, here are those puddings... There's a homemaker in me yet...

No comments:

Related Posts with Thumbnails