Archive for May 18th, 2012

Friday, 18 May 2012

In A Wood by E J Scovell

I saw my love, younger than primroses,
Sleeping in a wood.
Why do I love best what sleep uncloses,
Sorrowful creaturehood?

Dark, labyrinthine with anxiety,
His face is like a coiled infancy;
Like parched and wrinkled buds, the first of the year,
Thrown out on winter air.

Stiller than close eyes of a nested bird,
Clear from the covert of his sleeping,
One looked out that knows no human word
But gives me love and weeping.


Date: 1944

By: E J Scovell (1907-1999)