Friday, January 27, 2006

Philip Larkin I

Philip Larkin' Collected Poems did not disappoint at all; the prerequisite poetic perspective, lyrical rhythm, and an oft-displayed wittiness makes it a good read thus far (a quarter into the book). Here's one out of many others that impresses me with the above qualities, with a novel consideration of marriage through thoughts on a Maiden Name.

Maiden Name
Marrying left your maiden name disused.
Its five light sounds no longer mean your face,
Your voice, and all your variants of grace;
For since you were so thankfully confused
By law with someone else, you cannot be
Semantically the same as that young beauty:
It was of her that these two words were used.

Now it's a phrase applicable to no one,
Lying just where you left it, scattered through
Old lists, old programmes, a school prize or two,
Packets of letters tied with tartan ribbon -
Then is it scentless, weightless, strengthless, wholly
Untruthful? Try whispering it slowly.
No, it means you. Or, since you're past and gone,

It means what we feel now about you then:
How beautiful you were, and near, and young,
So vivid, you might still be there among
Those first dew days, unfingermarked again.
So your old name shelters our faithfulness,
Instead of losing shape and meaning less
With your depreciating luggage laden.


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