Welcome Guest Login

Old Man or Lads Love in the name there s noth

Old Man or Lads Love in the name there's nothing
To one that knows not Lads Love or Old Man
The hoar green feathery herb almost a tree
Growing with rosemary and lavender.
Even to one that knows it well the names
Half decorate half perplex the thing it is
At least what that is clings not to the names
In spite of time. And yet I like the names.
The herb itself I like not but for certain
I love it as someday the child will love it
Who plucks a feather from the door side bush
Whenever she goes in or out of the house.
Often she waits there snipping the tips and shrivelling
The shreds at last on to the path
Thinking perhaps of nothing till she sniffs
Her fingers and runs off. The bush is still
But half as tall as she though it is not old
So well she clips it. Not a word she says
And I ca only wonder how much hereafter
She will remember with that bitter scent
Of garden rows and ancient damson trees
Topping a hedge a bent path to a door
A low thick bush beside the door and me
Forbidding her to pick.
As for myself
Where first I met the bitter scent is lost.
I too often shrivel the grey shreds
Sniff them and think and sniff again and try
Once more to think what it is I am remembering
Always in vain. I cannot like the scent
Yet I would rather give up others more sweet
With no meaning than this bitter one.
I have mislaid the key. I sniff the spray
And think of nothing I see and I hear nothing
Yet seem too to be listening lying in wait
For what I should yet never can remember
No garden appears no path no hoar green bush
Of Lad's love or Old Man no child beside
Neither father nor mother nor any playmate
Only an avenue dark nameless without end .

Submit Your Poetry

by:- admin posted in:- edward thomas

Comments are closed. :(