Contemplative Haven

Jun 25 2007

Summer Dawn

Published by gabrielle at 11:17 pm under Poetry

Summer Dawn (by William Morris)

Pray but one prayer for me ‘twixt thy closed lips,
Think but one thought of me up in the stars.
The summer night waneth, the morning light slips,
Faint and grey ‘twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars,
That are patiently waiting there for the dawn:
Patient and colourless, though Heaven’s gold
Waits to float through them along with the sun.
Far out in the meadows, above the young corn,
The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold
The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun;
Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn,
Round the lone house in the midst of the corn.
Speak but one word to me over the corn,
Over the tender, bowed locks of the corn.

[The painting is: Elm Trees and Corn Field, by Jacques Raverat, 1915]

12 responses so far

12 Responses to “Summer Dawn”

# Gypsyon 26 Jun 2007 at 9:50 am

Pardon my thickness but who is speaking here, and to whom? What is he asking?
# kristinon 26 Jun 2007 at 11:26 am

I was able to close my eyes, and visualize so many lovely details in the scenes described in this poem…..how beautiful. Thank you for sharing…just exquisite.
# Annon 26 Jun 2007 at 11:45 am

If I could hazard a guess, but please bear in mind I have not come across the poem or the poet before.
After the first reading I wondered if day/ dawn itself was being addressed, the closed lips being the silence.
But a second reading leads me to think the poet is addressing either a painting or a photograph or indeed the mortal remains of someone dearly loved.
He loves nature and sees in it reflections of his own moods and wishes that somehow just as the sun will come up and dispel the darkness, his love will speak just one word.
This is only my interpretation, please don’t be afraid to disagree.

( And on a more personal note is gyspy aware that visitors to her blog must now instal cookies. I will when I find out how…waiting to ‘read’ my son’s face…if you know what I mean.)

Thanks Gabrielle for the poem and the painting….I know little about the arts and I appreciate your choices.
# Gabrielleon 26 Jun 2007 at 1:41 pm

Perhaps he is speaking to a loved one who has passed on, or maybe it’s that plea of the soul to a God Who appears to have been too long silent …oh, how many times, even as a child (which is when I first read and loved this poem) has my soul uttered something similar to: “Speak but one word to me over the corn.”
# gabrielleon 26 Jun 2007 at 3:36 pm

gypsy, I can’t find your posts, so please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means. I just read something the other day from one Rabbi Hillel: “Take care of yourself – you never know when the world will need you.” We need you, Madame Boanerges – don’t you go and shut down on us again, please…don’t make me get on that Greyhound bus, until I get a week’s vacation carved out…you got room in the basement? The attic? Someplace with no insects? You got cheesecake?
# Piaon 26 Jun 2007 at 6:33 pm

Me too! Gabrielle, do you think greyhound will pass by my place to pick me up??
Gypsy, I have something ready to put in the mail for you. You didn’t put your house on caravan wheels too, did you, gypsy??
# gabrielleon 26 Jun 2007 at 8:45 pm

Yes, I’ll hire some kind of hydroplane Greyhound bus, pia, then lower the wheels again and pick you up near the olive orchard. No gypsy has ever eluded me, especially when I’m wearing my special outfit. We may have to get you one too.
# Madame Bon 26 Jun 2007 at 10:15 pm

Oh you beauties. I’m too weird for Catholic blogging.

Anyway, the poem is as sad as when I prayed that my grandmother would get off her bed and walk to the store just one more time. Just one more time.. once.. just once..

More later..I have to run to the store. Gypsies smoke as well as swear.
# Gon 27 Jun 2007 at 7:42 am

It’s all-caravan, all the time, Pia, but I can be found.
# Piaon 27 Jun 2007 at 3:46 pm

I know.
# Driftwoodon 01 Jul 2007 at 12:50 pm

This speaks to me as someone in mourning during the darkest hours. The voice of the yearning.
It’s very beautiful and the painting is a great backcloth for it.
# Gabrielleon 04 Jul 2007 at 7:41 am

In mourning – yes; or for me also a little bit of waiting, in unacceptance, that the person is gone. Praying for the dawn, for some light to say it’s not so.