Anniversaries

A poem by Aldous Huxley (1894 – 1963)

Once more the windless days are here,

Quiet of autumn, when the year

Halts and looks backward and draws breath

Before it plunges into death.

Silver of mist and gossamers,

Through-shine of noonday’s glassy gold,

Pale blue of skies, where nothing stirs

Save one blanched leaf, weary and old,

That over and over slowly falls

From the mute elm-trees, hanging on air

Like tattered flags along the walls

Of chapels deep in sunlit prayer.

Once more … Within its flawless glass

To-day reflects that other day,

When, under the bracken, on the grass,

We who were lovers happily lay

And hardly spoke, or framed a thought

That was not one with the calm hills

And crystal sky. Ourselves were nought,

Our gusty passions, our burning wills

Dissolved in boundlessness, and we

Were almost bodiless, almost free.

The wind has shattered silver and gold.

Night after night of sparkling cold,

Orion lifts his tangled feet

From where the tossing branches beat

In a fine surf against the sky.

So the trance ended, and we grew

Restless, we knew not how or why;

And there were sudden gusts that blew

Our dreaming banners into storm;

We wore the uncertain crumbling form

Of a brown swirl of windy leaves,

A phantom shape that stirs and heaves

Shuddering from earth, to fall again

With a dry whisper of withered rain.

Last, from the dead and shrunken days

We conjured spring, lighting the blaze

Of burnished tulips in the dark;

And from black frost we struck a spark

Of blue delight and fragrance new,

A little world of flowers and dew.

Winter for us was over and done:

The drought of fluttering leaves had grown

Emerald shining in the sun,

As light as glass, as firm as stone.

Real once more: for we had passed

Through passion into thought again;

Shaped our desires and made that fast

Which was before a cloudy pain;

Moulded the dimness, fixed, defined

In a fair statue, strong and free,

Twin bodies flaming into mind,

Poised on the brink of ecstasy.

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Poems in English 

• The Licorice Fields at Pontefract poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• The Last Laugh poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• The Irish Unionist’s farewell to Greta Hellastrom in 1922 poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• The Hon. Sec. poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• The Cottage Hospital poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• Sun and Fun poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• South London Sketch poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• Slough poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• Senex poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• Seaside Golf poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• On a Portrait of a Deaf Man poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• Myfanwy poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• Mortality poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• Middlesex poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• Meditation on the A30 poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• Loneliness poem – John Betjeman poems by John Betjeman
• Ireland With Emily poem – John Betjeman poems | Poems and Poetry by John Betjeman
• Inexpensive Progress poem – John Betjeman poems | Poems and Poetry by John Betjeman
• In Westminster Abbey poem – John Betjeman poems | Poems and Poetry by John Betjeman
• How To Get On In Society poem – John Betjeman poems | Poems and Poetry by John Betjeman

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Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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