Today I feel like a little poetry so I thought I’d post one of my favorite Emily Dickinson poems:
Poem 97
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,–
One clover, and one bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do
If bees are few.
It is a marvelous poem for the middle of winter when bees are hibernating and clover is buried deep beneath the snow. It is always at this time of year that I start to imagine the garden and what new plants I want to plant and what it will look like in summer. In fact I was doing it just yesterday, looking at photos with bright flowers, green leaves and blue skies and for a brief moment the snow in my yard disappeared, there were birds singing, butterflies sipping delicately, and bees, the big fat bumblebees–how I love those fat bees!–buzzing languorously from flower to flower. Revery.
Do you have a poem that is a particular favorite at a certain time of year?
Oh I love this! I love the word revery. Can’t think of a poem that I find I go to this time of the year. Actually I’ve been thinking that it’s been a while since I picked up some poetry so your recent posts are nudging me in the right direction
I’m actually trying to grow a “prairie” in my backyard. Native plants, etc. It’s currently under a heap of snow, which is supposed to work the seeds into the ground somehow.
Anyway, you have posted my prairie’s theme poem.
Apparently it’s a little risky reading poetry at 1am. My brain processed “prairie” as “pirate.” Extreme puzzlement ensued as I tried to work out Ms. Dickinson’s associating clover, bees and revery with pirates.
Upon reading your reflections and seeing no reference to pirates, I revisited and got it right. Good heavens, it bodes not well to go off the rails where only 5 lines of poetry are concerned!
I read shamefully little poetry – must do better! And I don’t dare look at the garden, even to dream, because it’s at its lowest point of the year and cannot quite be covered over even by the power of fantasy! Roll on March – it will perk up by then. I do love nature’s resilience, and must look for a poem about it.
I definitely need some revery at the moment. Although to be fair the sun has just come out and the world feels better for it. My own favourite Dickinson poem is the one that begins:
There’s a certain slant of light
because there is – a moment when the light seems to have changed and you know it’s spring.
Here’s one of my favorite winter poems:
Dust of Snow
BY ROBERT FROST
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
It makes the best of a sometimes dark season. And, like Dickinson’s poems, it’s short enough for me to remember and take with me.
During the dog days of summer I long for autumn and winter. In the depths of winter, I dream about spring and summer. I just can’t make up my mind. This year, however, I am in earnest about re-starting my garden, which I’ve allowed to wither away and get overgrown. Love the poem!
Iliana, isn’t revery a great word? It’s dreamy but to me it sort of implies a sacred kind of dreamy. as for poetry, I am always glad to nudge
Amateur Reader, that’s wonderful! We remove pieces of our lawn every year to replace it with mostly native plants and grasses. the butterflies, bees and birds love it. When your prairie comes up you must take photos and share
Tara, Argh matey, your comment gave me a good laugh this morning. Maybe when pirates have been out at sea for too long they dream of clover and bees
Litlove, I’m feeling a poetry mood coming on myself. I can go months without readig a poem and then get a great urge to wallow in poetry. I never would have imagined that would be the case when I was a teen being browbeaten with the stuff in high school. I wish March arrives quickly for you. Here, we must wait until the end of April.
Annie, oh yes, I know that poem! It is a wonderful one too. There is a moment when the light changes and the air smells differently and you know spring is on the way. It is marvelous.
Joan, I don’t think I’ve read that Frost poem before. It is wonderful and made me smile. Thank you for sharing it!
Grad, I am the same as you and it drives my sister who lives in southern California crazy because in summer I complain it is hot and wish for snow and in winter I complain it is cold and wish for summer. I will be gardening in earnest this year too. I have been neglectful these last few summers because of school and I miss the garden mightily.
What a beautiful poem! Around this time of the month my longing for spring is about to start. Still another month to go however, maybe even more, before a shade of green touches the trees again. Your post reminded me of ‘February: Thinking of flowers’(The Boat of Quiet Hours) and the one below from Let Evening Come, both by Jane Kenyon .
Ice Out
As late as yesterday ice preoccupied
the pond – dark, half melted, waterlogged.
Then it sank in the night, one piece,
taking winter with it. And afterward
everything seems simple and good.
All afternoon I lifted oak leaves
from the flowerbeds, and greeted
like friends the green-white crowns
of perennials. They have the tender,
unnerving beauty of a baby’s head
How I hated to come in! I’ve left
the windows open to hear the peepers’
wildly disproportionate cries.
Dinner is over, no one stirs. The dog
sighs, sneezes, and closes his eyes.
How about Summer is icumen in? I always think of that as summer starts to rear its head. But, actually, my favourite seasons poem is inspired by the change from autumn to winter, but is really about life. It’s Spring and fall by Gerard Manley Hopkins:
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow’s springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What héart héard of, ghóst guéssed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
A melancholy poem really, but I’ve liked it since I studied it at school/university.
Catharina, there are nearly three months to go here before we see green, alas. I love Jane Kenyon. I don’t remember “February” so I will have to look it up. And thanks for sharing the one you did. She has such an eye for detail!
whisperinggums, I don’t know Summer is icumen in very well so I looked it up for a refreseher and I think I like Ezra Pound’s parody better: “Winter is icumen in,/
the Manley Hopkins is a nice one. I especially like the first and last lines.
Lhude sing Goddamm”
Oh, I agree with Ezra Pound … that’s a good’un.
You know I am not much of a poetry reader, though I think this year I might actually try my luck with a few books (including the Sappho), but I do love Emily Dickinson and I’m not at all sure why I don’t have a book of her poems on hand–they are so sharp and have a nice musical quality to them. Thanks for sharing–I’ve actually got in several poems this week now!
That poem is perfect! I’ve been lost in reveries about spring lately. And it’s so close! It’s almost February, and then it will soon be March, and it will start to warm up. That’s such a lovely thought on a day when it’s snowing hard enough that they canceled school.
Danielle, Dickinson is marvelous, there is no other quite like her. If you are going to get a book, get her complete poems. It’s big and fat but great for dipping into.
Dorothy, You’re area has been having quite the winter this year. Spring will definitely be cause for much celebration.
I love this one. Poetry is actually something that I wish I read more of. I don’t have a favorite selection for this time of year but am happy to read one of yours.
Kathleen, glad you enjoyed it and I am always glad to share favorite poems and happy when others like them too!