by Kate Alsbury
A chilly start today
Frost turned dew glimmers bright
Long Awaited Spring
Old Scent of the Plum-Tree
From Japanese of Fujiwara Letaka (1158–1237)
Translated by Edward Powys Mathers
Remembering what passed
Under the scent of the plum-tree,
I asked the plum-tree for tidings
Of that other.
Alas … the cold moon of spring….
The Tree and The Lady
by Thomas Hardy
I have done all I could
For that lady I knew! Through the heats I have shaded her,
Drawn to her songsters when summer has jaded her,
Home from the heath or the wood.
At the mirth-time of May,
When my shadow first lured her, I’d donned my new bravery
Of greenth: ’twas my all. Now I shiver in slavery,
Icicles grieving me gray.
Plumed to every twig’s end
I could tempt her chair under me. Much did I treasure her
During those days she had nothing to pleasure her;
Mutely she used me as friend.
I’m a skeleton now,
And she’s gone, craving warmth. The rime sticks like a skin to me;
Through me Arcturus peers; Nor’lights shoot into me;
Gone is she, scorning my bough!