Edward Shanks was born in England in 1892 and was a member of the British army during World War I. In 1915, though, he was "invalided out" and he finished his service away from the action. The second poem below discusses his feelings about that. This first poem, however, covers an entirely different topic...
The Cupby Edward Shanks
As a hot traveller
Going through stones and sands,
Who sees clear water stir
Amid the weary lands,
Takes in his hollowed hands
The clean and lively water,
That trickles down his throat
Like laughter, like laughter,
So when you come to me
Across these parchèd places
And all the waste I see
Flowered with your graces,
I take between my hands
Your face like a rare cup,
Where kisses mix with laughter,
And drink and drink them up
Like water, like water.
~~~~~~~~~
The Poolby Edward Shanks
Out of that noise and hurry of large life
The river flings me in an idle pool:
The waters still go on with stir and strife
And sunlit eddies, and the beautiful
Tall trees lean down upon the mighty flow,
Reflected in that movement. Beauty there
Waxes more beautiful, the moments grow
Thicker and keener in that lovely air
Above the river. Here small sticks and straws
Come now to harbour, gather, lie and rot,
Out of cross-currents and the water's flaws
In this unmoving death, where joy is not,
Where war's a shade again, ambition rotten
And bitter hopes and fears alike forgotten.
~~~~~~~~~
* More poems by Edward Shanks
here and
here.
Jama has the Poetry Friday round-up today.
An album cover...I wish we could see our violinist a little better:
