Wednesday, April 20, 2016

These Fields at Evening by David Morton

My drive to work passes many small farms, all becoming beautifully green just now. I return home long before evening, but David Morton's poem These Fields at Evening evokes a beautifully fantastical realm, where here and the other are never truly separate.

These Fields at Evening
By David Morton
 
THESE wear their evening light as women wear
Their pale proud beauty for some lover’s sake,
Too quiet-hearted evermore to care
For moving worlds and musics that they make;
And they are hushed as lonely women are—        5
So lost in dreams they have no thought to mark
How the wide heavens blossom, star by star,
And the slow dusk is deepening to the dark.
 
The moon comes like a lover from the hill,
Leaning across the twilight and the trees;        10
And finds them grave and beautiful and still,
And wearing always, on such nights as these,
A glimmer less than any ghost of light,
As women wear their beauty through the night.
 

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