A Poet To His Muse

    Muse, you have opened like a flower.

        *    *    *    *    *

    Long ago I knew that brown integument,
    Like a dead husk, had dormant life within it,
    And waited till a first white point appeared
    Which shot into a naked stiff pale spike
    That grew.
    I knew this was not all;
    Nothing I said as greener you grew and taller,
    But dreamed alone of the day when your bud would unsheathe,
    And silently swell, and at last your crown would break
    Filling the air with clouds of colour and fragrance,
    Radiant waves, odours of immortality.

        *    *    *    *    *

    In a pot of earth I watered and tended you,
    Breaking the clods and soaking the earth with water
    That fed your roots and eased your way to the light.
    I gave you the sun and the rain
    But saved you from scorching and drowning:
    You are mine, and only I know you,
    And the ways of your growth, and the days.

        *    *    *    *    *

    But you are not from me.
    I am but a pen for a hand,
    A bed for a river,
    A window for light.
    And I bow in awe to that Power
    That made you a flower.

John Collings Squire, Sir

John Collings Squire, Sir

John Collings Squire, also known as Sir John Squire, was an influential British poet, writer, historian, and influential literary editor of the early 20th century. He is best known for his role as editor of the London Mercury, a powerful literary journal of the time. Squire was a leading figure in the Georgian poetry movement, which sought to return English poetry to its traditional form and diction.

John Collings Squire, Sir

English

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