fileg (fileg) wrote,


Now in this long-deferred spring...
- Sylvia Townsend Warner

Now in this long-
deferred spring,
Blackthorn bush by the way-
side what do you say?

Summer was a burning fever,
Winter a cold fever.
I was spared by neither.

But yet your cramped boughs
are pricked with flowers.

By rote, by rote,
These blossoms I put out.
They have not anything
to do with this spring.

They are but the badge
of an old pledge.
Farewell, and overlook
these white ashes among the black.
Tags: poetry

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