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Easter. And leaves falling.
Easter. And first autumn rains.
Easter. And dusk stealing
Our bright working daylight;
And cold night coming down
In which we may not work.
Easter. And morning bells
Chime in the late dark.
Soon those fluttering birds
Will seek a more genial clime.
Time has come to light fires
For lack of enlivening sun.
Summer’s arrow is spent,
Stored her last tribute.
So, now, we plant our bulbs
With assured vision,
And, now, we sow our seeds
Sagely for sure quickening.
So, purging our borders
We burn all rubbish up,
That all weak and waste growth,
That all unprofitable weeds,
All canker and corrosion,
May be consumed utterly.
These universal bonfires
Have a savour of sacrifice.
See how their clean smoke,
Ruddy and white whorls,
Rises to the still heavens
In plumy spirals.
You take me – yes, I know it –
Fresh from your vernal Lent.
These ashes I will now spread
For nutriment about the roses,
Dust unto fertile dust,
And say no word more.
From a Garden in the Antipodes (Sidgwick & Jackson, 1929)
More on Ursula Bethell at the nzepc
Don’t forget to check out the communal Tuesday Birthday Poem.
I’ve chosen a poem by (Mary) Ursula Bethell this week (1874 – 1945). She was born in England, moved to New Zealand as a child, returned to London as an adult, but finally settled in Christchurch with her close companion, Effie Pollen. The poem is ‘Detail’ and it was first published under the pseudonym Evelyn Hayes in From a Garden in the Antipodes (Sidgwick & Jackson, London, 1929)
You can read more about Ursula Bethell at the following links
http://www.bookcouncil.org.nz/writers/bethellursula.html
http://www.waimakariri.govt.nz/library/history_files/Ursula-Bethell.pdf
http://www.gaynz.net.nz/history/UrsulaBethell.html
Detail
My garage is a structure of excessive plainness,
It springs from a dry bank in the back garden,
It is made of corrugated iron,
And painted all over with brick-red.
But beside it I have planted a green Bay-tree,
– A sweet Bay, an Olive, a Turkey Fig,
– A Fig, an Olive, and a Bay.
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