Monday, August 24, 2009

To Earthward

2fc5cf66e685d4d4.jpg Solitude image by JohnnyCrush

A favorite poem by Robert Frost: 

To Earthward

Love at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear;
And once that seemed too much;
I lived on air


That crossed me from sweet things,
The flow of -- was it musk
From hidden grapevine springs
Down hill at dusk?


I had the swirl and ache
From sprays of honeysuckle
That when they're gathered shake
Dew on the knuckle.


I craved strong sweets, but those
Seemed strong when I was young;
The petal of the rose
It was that stung.


Now no joy but lacks salt
That is not dashed with pain
And weariness and fault;
I crave the stain


Of tears, the aftermark
Of almost too much love,
The sweet of bitter bark
And burning clove.


When stiff and sore and scarred
I take away my hand
From leaning on it hard
In grass and sand,

The hurt is not enough:
I long for weight and strength
To feel the earth as rough
To all my length.
 

♥♥♥

7 comments:

Lola said...

Whew...
beautiful.

Robert Frost is buried in Bennington, VT - my birthplace. But I have never visited his grave.

Thank you for this. Starting the day with poetry and such powerful imagery is good. Very good.

~Lola xx

ethelmaepotter! said...

I'm not sure which is the more lovely - the photo or the prose. Thank you for both.

Lorna said...

Why is it your favorite? Can you say?

Lorna

Protege said...

I think the title says it all.
There is something about poetry, that cannot be found in other texts. Candid feelings and fragile honesty.
xo

sallymandy said...

Lola: You have sure been around, haven't you! I didn't know you were born in VT. I've loved this poem since I was quite young.

Ethelmae: You're welcome...it was hard to find a good photo to go with this poem.

Lorna: I think it's because I'm such an emotional person and feel things deeply. This appealed to me when I was a teenager and young adult in the throes of young love. I thought about what it would be like to be older, and now I'm older.

Protege: These first few lines of this poem are the ones that grab me. Poetry is distilled truth.

Mardel said...

I loved that poem when I was young, but had not thought about it in a few years. Now that I am old(er) I still love it, but the words speak differently to me now.

La Belette Rouge said...

Not at all sure why but this poem makes me think of the second to last scene in MadMen from last night. Did you see it? Did you see him touching the grass as he looked at the young teacher who was dancing barefoot on the grass? Sorry to digress but that is what this poem made me think of.