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Dirge In Woods Post by :bornagain Category :Poems Author :George Meredith Date :February 2011 Read :1610

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Dirge In Woods

A wind sways the pines,
And below
Not a breath of wild air;
Still as the mosses that glow
On the flooring and over the lines
Of the roots here and there.
The pine-tree drops its dead;
They are quiet, as under the sea.
Overhead, overhead
Rushes life in a race,
As the clouds the clouds chase;
And we go,
And we drop like the fruits of the tree,
Even we,
Even so.

(The end)
George Meredith's poem: Dirge In Woods

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On the morning of May,Ere the children had entered my gateWith their wreaths and mechanical lay,A metal ding-dong of the date!I mounted our hill, bearing heartThat had little of life save its weight:The crowned Shadow poising dartHung over her: she, my own,My good companion, mate,Pulse of me: she who had shownFortitude quiet as Earth'sAt the shedding of leaves. And aroundThe sky was in garlands of cloud,Winning scents from unnumbered new births,Pointed buds the woods were brownedBy a mouldered beechen shroud;Or over our meads of the vale,Such an answer to sun as he,Brave in his gold; to a

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ILeave the uproar: at a leapThou shalt strike a woodland path,Enter silence, not of sleep,Under shadows, not of wrath;Breath which is the spirit's bathIn the old Beginnings find,And endow them with a mind,Seed for seedling, swathe for swathe.That gives Nature to us, thisGive we her, and so we kiss.IIFruitful is it so: but hearHow within the shell thou art,Music sounds; nor other nearCan to such a tremor start.Of the waves our life is part;They our running harvests bear:Back to them for manful air,Laden with the woodland's heart!That gives Battle to us, thisGive we it, and good the kiss.(The end)George