Archive for November 25th, 2014

Tuesday, 25 November 2014

Poetry is Happiness by Charles Wrey Gardiner

Poetry is happiness; and happiness is the shadow of poetry
Like the shape of Orion in the midnight sky
Spread across the darkening and dreadful future,
A cold icicle pure as our merciless nature.

I am the idiot lost on a winter’s morning
Bedevilled by despair of the ancient works of man,
Ink on my fingers and murder in my heart,
Lonely as angels or the ghost of time.

Love is my happiness and love my learning,
Words are my undiluted wisdom, not hard my meaning,
Clear as the unseen blackbird singing alone.
Poetry is life and life lies lazy in the sun.

From: Rexroth, Kenneth (ed.), The New British Poets, 1947, New Directions: London, p. 73.
(http://archive.org/stream/newbritishpoets030038mbp#page/n117/mode/2up)

Date: 1947

By: Charles Wrey Gardiner (1901-1981)