In Alnwick's Bookshop
There on the shelves of dross a gleam of gold.
A first edition "Tree of Idleness"
unsigned, but then, we can't have everything.
Why should his verses swim before my eyes,
most of these lines I've known so many years -
bringing me now to all-but-public tears?
Is it his 'single pining mandolin' that
'scratches on silence like a pet locked in'?
Or images of distance, cloud, hills, rain,
his 'lack of someone spreading like a stain.'
Yes, perhaps that. These found poems find me now
sundered from home, from sleep, from all I love,
from 'where brown fingers in the darkness move'
To find this book, this small excuse for weeping.
Lawrence Durrell, author of the stupendous "Alexandria Quartet", is now all but forgotten as a poet. A pity, for his lyric poetry is moving, tender and always musical. "The Tree of Idleness" (1955, Faber & Faber) was his fourth 'slim volume'. All the quotes are from the title poem.
Alnwick, a small market-town in the county of Northumberland, UK, boasts the biggest second-hand bookshop in the country - some say in Europe, in the town's disused railway station. It really is a knock-out and very well worth a visit if you happen to be touring or staying there. But you won't find a first ed. "Tree of Idleness" - 'cos I've got it!
I love the soulful cry woven within the lines of your poem, especially: 'These poems find me now sundered from home, from sleep, from all I love...' And, thanks, your bookshop has just been added to my bucket list.
ReplyDeleteThis was a beautiful poem! "These found poems find me now . . . " Lovely.
ReplyDeleteSometimes my brown fingers move in the darkness, but they are not searching for a book...
ReplyDeleteBut I have a feeling Ada often looks at me as though I were a stain - a blot on her copybook, perhaps.
ALL but forgotten, but not quite. I have a fond regard for his poems. Thank you for this post and its most moving poem.
ReplyDeleteI will have to google him and learn more. And keep my eyes peeled at the used book store we love to visit. A have a few dear books that that I'm sentimental about too.
ReplyDeleteWhat joy to discover such a treasure...I must search for his work...You have written a beautiful piece.
ReplyDeleteThank you for reminding me of Durrell's poetry. His Alexandria Quartet is a luminous memory from my young woman/writer-hood. My husband has been re-reading it. The lines from his poem are spine-tingling, and as another commenter observed, nicely woven into your own.
ReplyDeleteI appreciate your visit to my blog and your generous response. I hope you come back again.
Susie . . the books set in the Aegean and Mediterranean islands are rewarding, but rather dated since mass tourism invaded them. They are "Prospero's Cell"; "Reflections of a Marine Venus" and "Bitter Lemons" - this set in Cyprus towards the end of the British mandate/occupation.
ReplyDeleteOh, Bitter Lemons..I still have that book...
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely poem..I particularly liked
'to find this book,this small excuse for weeping'..sad..but that's an essential colour isn't it, in the colour spectrum of life.
Beautiful!
ReplyDeleteYes, well this was quite wonderful ... and thank you.
ReplyDeleteI saw another reference to Lawrence Durrell HERE regarding a poem called Bitter Lemons. Seems like it's someone else's excuse for weeping, too, at the gall of silence...
ReplyDelete