Saturday, 25 April 2009

For Robert Graves Lovers

Lament for Pasiphae

Dying sun, shine warm a little longer!
My eye, dazzled with tears, shall dazzle yours,
Conjuring you to shine and not to move.
You, sun, and I all afternoon have laboured
Beneath a dewless and oppressive cloud--
A fleece now gilded with our common grief
That this must be a night without a moon.
Dying sun, shine warm a little longer!

Faithless she was not: she was very woman,
Smiliing with dire impartiality,
Sovereign, with heart unmatched, adored of men,
Until Spring's cuckoo with bedraggled plumes
Tempted her pity and her truth betrayed.
Then she who shone for all resigned her being,
And this must be a night without a moon.
Dying sun, shine warm a little longer!



I've always found this poem flawed, yet extremely enigmatic, and the lines come to me at odd moments. The fact I find it flawed yet it keeps announcing itself probably means the flaw is in my self. The sentiment is perfect, but the poem perhaps a tad too personal. Oh bollocks. I love this one.

It is the title that always makes me scratch my head and colour my reading of the poem. If it was untitled then I would have nothing to worry on (and I have worried on this one for twenty years now). But with the title everything is turned on its head, and it keeps sending the mind out questing for meaning.

2 comments:

Hannah said...

oooh lovely, thank you for posting this!

Perhaps it's just the odd feature from the shadowy photos you've proffered of yourself, but I'm sure there's a likeness to be found there between yourself and Mr Graves...

Abysmal Musings said...

Big nose? Scruffy? There the resemblance ends I fear.