Friday, November 14, 2008

The Planter's Daughter

When night stirred at sea,
And the fire brought a crowd in
They say that her beauty
Was music in mouth
And few in the candlelight
Thought her too proud,
For the house of the planter
Is known by the trees.

Men that had seen her
Drank deep and were silent,
The women were speaking
Wherever she went --
As a bell that is rung
Or a wonder told shyly
And Oh, she was the Sunday
In every week.

-- Austin Clarke (1896-1974)



2 comments:

Michael Morse said...

I'm finishing a 24 hour shift, watched an old man die, two young girls crash their car into a river, two guys stabbed yesterday, one last night and more desperate homeless drunks than I can remember. Never flinched. Just when I thought the emotion had been drained from me The Planters Daughter appears, perhaps through divine intervention and reminds me I'm still alive. Minutes after the video ended I still have goosebumps. It's good to know I'm still alive. Thanks, Walt.

Walt Trachim said...

It is one of my favorite poems. The song that goes with it (I don't speak Gaelic, but I think you get the drift) is lovely - has the same effect on me....

Make sure you take care of yourself, okay?