A Few Late Chrysanthemums

Oh, little body, do not die.
The soul looks out through wide blue eyes
So questioningly into mine,
That my tormented soul replies:
"Oh, little body, do not die.
You hold the soul that talks to me
Although our conversations be
As wordless as the windy sky."

So looked my father at the last
Right in my soul, before he died,
Though words we spoke went heedless past
As London traffic-roar outside.
And now the same blue eyes I see
Look through me from a little son,
So questioningly, so searchingly
That youthfulness and age are one.

My father looked at me and died
Before my soul made full reply.
Lord, leave this other Light alight -
Oh, little body, do not die

John Betjeman

one of the poems set for the E8 paper. i practically mangled the compare contrast question [which this poem was half of] but nonetheless i thought the poems given today were beautiful, though heart-wrenchingly so. the drama piece was also beautiful and about war so i savoured it very much and i think i did okay on that one. yup, today's paper was rather sad - set pieces about death and war. but such achingly beautiful writing. i shall post the other poem soon after you have digested this one.

+ posted by M @ 10:16 PM