For the general population... Wordsworth is my favourite poet. And some of my favourite poems are the so-called "Lucy poems". And so, drawing a comparison, I realised that I had might have done something similar to the Lucy cycle with my own wannabe poetry. Only I do not speak of his death (partly because he is alive and well, and may he be so for many years to come), but of his eyes. Many may ask why. I don't know if you ever noticed, but some people's eyes just shine from within. As if there was an unquenchable light dwelling in their depths.
I have not that light. And so, by the principle of darkness loves and is consummed by light, I am drawn to his light. But enough introduction for one night.
I saw a world in the twirling snow
I saw a world in the twirling snow,
And lovingly I saw you there as well:
You were smiling and laughing soft and low,
With your voice like the tinkling of a bell;
Your eyes shone as brightly as before,
When tales I heard you tell on the seashore.
I saw you seldom since: my heart had cooled,
And I finally looked you in the eyes,
Those eyes where pity suddenly had pooled
When I looked upon you in my surprise,
Trying to pierce the gloom that shame had wrought
When I said things that I never had ought.
And there is always the selfsame regret
Of never having spoken to you then,
When my chances were shining brightest yet
Than with any son begotten of men.
And yet it seems to me that there have passed
Countless years and days since I saw you last.
You have no name and yet your name resounds
From every hill and every drop of sky,
In every moment that our time surrounds
With raindrops and twinkling hopes from on high:
Even the faded grass whispers thy name
Though you and I will never be the same…
23 November 2010
*Quote belongs to M. H. Abrams.
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