The Living Dead

~ Honouring our poetic ancestors ~

The Beautiful Changes

One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides   

The Queen Anne’s Lace lying like lilies

On water; it glides

So from the walker, it turns

Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of you   

Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.

The beautiful changes as a forest is changed   

By a chameleon’s tuning his skin to it;   

As a mantis, arranged

On a green leaf, grows

Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and proves   

Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows.

Your hands hold roses always in a way that says   

They are not only yours; the beautiful changes   

In such kind ways,   

Wishing ever to sunder

Things and things’ selves for a second finding, to lose   

For a moment all that it touches back to wonder.

– Richard Wilbur (1921-2017)


I had been thinking I should acquaint myself better with the poetry of Richard Wilbur. Then tonight I felt like finding a gentle, lovely poem to offset the nastier things that are going on in the world. I also thought that as I didn't find the time to write to the Midweek Motif prompt about the beauty of the world, it would be nice to present something fitting in my Friday post. As you see, all these threads came together – beautifully.

This appears to me a most delicate love poem as well. While it seems to be, and is, a celebration of the way Nature changes from one kind of beauty to another, doesn't it also say that the beloved grows only into a new kind of beauty with age?

He celebrates the beauties of Nature in this short YouTube interview-cum-reading, too:

(Patience! It seems to load slowly if at all. Read on and come back here, if you don't see it at once. Or else go direct to YouTube.) 

I was surprised to find that Wilbur died only last year, not even 12 months ago yet, having reached a great age himself.

A distinguished American poet and translator, he received numerous prestigious literary awards including two Pulitzers, and was the second Poet Laureate of the United States.

Known for his elegant language and meticulous craft, his work was out of vogue for a while, considered by many too formal and lacking depth of feeling. Reading it now, I think the feeling is there! He is now, again, being better appreciated.

An article in Poetry Foundation says more about this, and about his translations, particularly from Moliere, his books for children, and other prose works.

The obituary in The Guardian gives a succinct but thorough account of his life and work.  Wikipedia goes into even more detail.

And of course you can find his books on his Amazon page. I think his work is lovely, and will be reading more.

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