Poems in the Waiting Room

I've been to the doctor's this morning. Nothing serious - all routine - but I was happy to find a new copy of a little leaflet that's available there. Happy to find a leaflet in the doctor's?  What's it about?


Well - it's a triple fold card called "Poems in the Waiting Room" that offers a selection of poetry you can read while you wait and can take home with you.  I always pick one up when I see one and often find some excellent new poems as well as some old favourites.

Check them out here if you would like to know more.



And here's a choice from the current selection:
Madonna of the Evening Flowers

All day long I have been working,
Now I am tired.
I call: "Where are you?"
But there is only the oak tree rustling in the wind.
The house is very quiet,
The sun shines in on your books,
On your scissors and thimble just put down,
But you are not there.
Suddenly I am lonely;
Where are you?
I go about searching.

Then I see you,
Standing under a spire of pale blue larkspur,
With a basket of roses on your arm.
You are cool, like silver,
And you smile.
I think the Canterbury bells are playing little tunes.

You tell me that the peonies need spraying,
That the columbines have overrun all bounds,
That the pyrus japonica should be cut back and rounded.
You tell me these things.
But I look at you, heart of silver,
White heart-flame of polished silver,
Burning beneath the blue steeples of the larkspur,
And I long to kneel instantly at your feet,
While all about us peal the loud,
sweet Te Deums of the Canterbury bells.
Amy Lowell (1874-1925)

(Sorry - I don't have any photos of larkspur.)