I believe this was early Cummings, before he stretched and became disjointed. Though Cummings was American, the setting feels British to me, from the time when the island was an expanse of deep-green woods, the land of King Arthur or Robinhood. The four lean hounds are just right.
All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.
four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the merry deer ran before.
Fleeter be they than dappled dreams
the swift sweet deer
the red rare deer.
Four red roebuck at a white water
the cruel bugle sang before.
Horn at hip went my love riding
riding the echo down
into the silver dawn.
four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the level meadows ran before.
Softer be they than slippered sleep
the lean lithe deer
the fleet flown deer.
Four fleet does at a gold valley
the famished arrow sang before.
Bow at belt went my love riding
riding the mountain down
into the silver dawn.
four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the sheer peaks ran before.
Paler be they than daunting death
the sleek slim deer
the tall tense deer.
Four tall stags at a green mountain
the lucky hunter sang before.
All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.
four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
my heart fell dead before.
Pierce me.
We look at poems that work and try to figure out what's doing the lifting. Formal, experimental, lyric, narrative. Mostly contemporary. Scroll down.⬇😀
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
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