From a London garden

Chapter 36: ’TWIXT DAWN AND DAY

Open in WeRead

About This Book

A collected series of lyrical poems moves between urban and rural imagery to reflect on love, mortality, time, memory, and moral growth. The poet uses concise, imagistic language and varied meters to meditate on human experience: longing and loss, pride and humility, the rhythms of city life and quiet country scenes, the passage of days and seasons, death and consolation. Voices range from personal confession to philosophical observation, with elegiac tones, religious reflection, and celebration of steadfastness. Recurring motifs—light and shadow, dawn and evening, gardens and streets—bind individual pieces into a contemplative portrait of inner life amid modern surroundings.

’TWIXT DAWN AND DAY

If you were gone, and any anodyne

Could drown in deep forgetfulness benign

All thought of all things past,

Until, at last,

I had forgotten too

Even the dearer memory of you—

In some dim hour betwixt the dawn and day,

When I awoke to feel how bleak and grey

My life without you spread,

Then from the dead

Those memories would upstart

And one—the thought of you would break my heart.

And passing thus, could lapse of day and year

Keep me still distant from you there as here?

Nay, for remembering so

Were hence to go

Back through the years a space

And where we parted make our meeting place.