books 2009: Poems, by Katherine Mansfield
Many of you will remember Katherine Mansfield because I made you read her short story "Miss Brill" a while back. It was the story about the old lady with her fox stole at the concert in the park, and if you read it you are probably throwing things at the screen right now and cursing me for making you think about it because it was so heartbreaking.
I picked up this long out-of-print 1924 first edition a while ago; I don't even remember where I got it, but I thought it was finally time to read it. I've been going through it at night before bed. Mansfield's poems are odd, and oddly lovely. She uses rhythm and rhyme but not exclusively or heavily. There's a creepiness to some of the poems that is kind of rich and wonderful.
The Meeting (1911)
We started speaking,
Looked at each other, then turned away.
The tears kept rising to my eyes
But I could not weep.
I wanted to take your hand
But my hand trembled.
You kept counting the days
Before we should meet again.
But both of us felt in our hearts
That we parted for ever and ever.
The ticking of the little clock filled the quiet room.
"Listen," I said. "It is so loud,
Like a horse galloping on a lonely road,
As loud as that--a horse galloping past in the night."
You shut me up in your arms.
But the sound of the clock stifled our hearts' beating.
You said, "I can't go: all that is living of me
Is here for ever and ever."
Then you went.
The world changed. The sound of the clock grew fainter,
Dwindled away, became a minute thing.
I whispered in the darkness, "If it stops, I shall die."
I picked up this long out-of-print 1924 first edition a while ago; I don't even remember where I got it, but I thought it was finally time to read it. I've been going through it at night before bed. Mansfield's poems are odd, and oddly lovely. She uses rhythm and rhyme but not exclusively or heavily. There's a creepiness to some of the poems that is kind of rich and wonderful.
The Meeting (1911)
We started speaking,
Looked at each other, then turned away.
The tears kept rising to my eyes
But I could not weep.
I wanted to take your hand
But my hand trembled.
You kept counting the days
Before we should meet again.
But both of us felt in our hearts
That we parted for ever and ever.
The ticking of the little clock filled the quiet room.
"Listen," I said. "It is so loud,
Like a horse galloping on a lonely road,
As loud as that--a horse galloping past in the night."
You shut me up in your arms.
But the sound of the clock stifled our hearts' beating.
You said, "I can't go: all that is living of me
Is here for ever and ever."
Then you went.
The world changed. The sound of the clock grew fainter,
Dwindled away, became a minute thing.
I whispered in the darkness, "If it stops, I shall die."