Saturday, September 20, 2014

October Roses

It’s cold at night, or didn’t you know
This isn’t when the roses grow?
Under the hawthorns, in the shade,
The birds have gone, but you have stayed,
Underdesigned for taking flight.
Color cannot put all things right.
And now it snows, at which the frost
Declares that delicacy is lost.
And still you bloom, and for today
Keep ice and emptiness away.
So Keats, who failed, and failed in youth,
Let Beauty claim that it was Truth.

5 comments:

Nev said...

That is a surprisingly dark ending, now that I rereread it. Tender up to that point, and then dark - saying the ice and emptiness win - the beauty is passing - anything but the "truth". But but, I would say, the author doesn't really think this, or he would not speak so tenderly to it. I have used up all my internet time for today.

TrueBlueSue49 said...

That was a loverly poem, thank you for posting it.

Nev said...

Ok, so today I'm reading it completely differently - I read it to say that the persuasiveness of Beauty, blooming persistently even where it should not,leads us (and Keats) to declare it Truth. Funny how I was densely able to get both readings out of this, but anyway, I like it the more for that.

Richard Epstein said...

Sure, sure -- whatever you find, I put it there, but only if you like it. Also, with Truth and Beauty, you get a half pound of the extra-lean corned beef.

Nev said...

:)

Possibly, "The Truth" has been ruined forever by Jehovah's Witnesses.