POETRY

Out of context: Reply #43

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  • allthethings0

    Love Songs In Age

    She kept her songs, they took so little space,
    The covers pleased her:
    One bleached from lying in a sunny place,
    One marked in circles by a vase of water,
    One mended, when a tidy fit had seized her,
    And coloured, by her daughter -
    So they had waited, till in widowhood
    She found them, looking for something else, and stood

    Relearning how each frank submissive chord
    Had ushered in
    Word after sprawling hyphenated word,
    And the unfailing sense of being young
    Spread out like a spring-woken tree, wherein
    That hidden freshness, sung,
    That certainty of time laid up in store
    As when she played them first. But, even more,

    The glare of that much-mentioned brilliance, love,
    Broke out, to show
    Its bright incipience sailing above,
    Still promising to solve, and satisfy,
    And set unchangeably in order. So
    To pile them back, to cry,
    Was hard, without lamely admitting how
    It had not done so then, and could not now.

    --Philip Larkin

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