Geoffrey Grigson poems
Geoffrey Grigson(2 March 1905 - 25 November 1985 / Pelynt, Cornwall)
Before a Fall
- by Geoffrey Grigson 36
And what was the big room he walked in?The big room he walked in,
Over the smooth floor,
Under the sky light,
Was his own brain.
And what was it he admired there?
He admired there
The oval mirror.
And what was it the oval mirror showed him there?
It showed him the roots
Through the ceiling,
The gross armchair, the bookcase
Shuttered with glass,
The Hymns bound in velvet,
The porcelain oven,
The giant egg cups,
The hairy needles,
And the silence
And the smell of smouldering dung
Hung between the walls
(Which were yellow as dandelion).
And how did he leave?
On the smooth floor
His neat feet jarred
And his teeth grew down
To his heart, and he slipped
On the white stairhead -
Which ended?
Which ended in coldness
And darkness,
Through which he fell
(So they tell)
With little hope, and slowly.
Two Are Together
- by Geoffrey Grigson 26
Two are together, I tell you,A slope of a vowel, are a corner;
Grass short as a garden,
Bracken
Uncoiling,
Foxgloves, water
Descending,
Quartz in a stone.
This corner:
Mountain-ash (ferns
Up in air).
Then over an edge
This single
Blue wedge of a mountain;
This comfort, you tell me,
Contentment,
Compassion.
This wild-mint-scented scene
And wild roses
And wrinkle of water descending
Tending to laughter;
Together, then
After.