Taking Down The Tree Poem by Jane Kenyon
Taking Down The Tree
'Give me some light!' cries Hamlet's
uncle midway through the murder
of Gonzago. 'Light! Light!' cry scattering
courtesans. Here, as in Denmark,
it's dark at four, and even the moon
shines with only half a heart.
The ornaments go down into the box:
the silver spaniel, My Darling
on its collar, from Mother's childhood
in Illinois; the balsa jumping jack
my brother and I fought over,
pulling limb from limb. Mother
drew it together again with thread
while I watched, feeling depraved
at the age of ten.
With something more than caution
I handle them, and the lights, with their
tin star-shaped reflectors, brought along
from house to house, their pasteboard
toy suitcases increasingly flimsy.
Tick, tick, the desiccated needles drop.
By suppertime all that remains is the scent
of balsam fir. If it's darkness
we're having, let it be extravagant.
'By suppertime all that remains is the scent of balsam fir. If it's darkness we're having, let it be extravagant.' is so nice. Liked it.
Fantastic imagery and a wonderful poem with beautiful rhyme. Enjoyed the poem. Thanks for sharing.10 points.
This is my first acquaintance with Jane Kenyon. I am impressed with her handling of children's memories and the fresh way she presents them.
With something more than caution I handle them, and the lights, with their tin star-shaped reflectors, brought along from house to house, their pasteboard toy suitcases increasingly flimsy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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11/28/2023 11:10:02 PM # 1.0.0.1118
Feeling depraved with the muse of life. Nice work.