Author: Madison Julius Cawein

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    Dormered and verandaed, cool,
    Locust-girdled, on the hill;
    Stained with weather-wear, and dull-
    Streak'd with lichens; every sill
    Thresholding the beautiful;

    I can see it standing there,
    Brown above the woodland deep,
    Wrapped in lights of lavender,
    By the warm wind rocked asleep,
    Violet shadows everywhere.

    I remember how the Spring,
    Liberal-lapped, bewildered its
    Acred orchards, murmuring,
    Kissed to blossom; budded bits
    Where the wood-thrush came to sing.

    Barefoot Spring, at first who trod,
    Like a beggermaid, adown
    The wet woodland; where the god,
    With the bright sun for a crown
    And the firmament for rod,

    Met her; clothed her; wedded her;
    Her Cophetua: when, lo!
    All the hill, one breathing blur,
    Burst in beauty; gleam and glow
    Blent with pearl and lavender.

    Seckel, blackheart, palpitant
    Rained their bleaching strays; and white
    Snowed the damson, bent aslant;
    Rambow-tree and romanite
    Seemed beneath deep drifts to pant.

    And it stood there, brown and gray,
    In the bee-boom and the bloom,
    In the shadow and the ray,
    In the passion and perfume,
    Grave as age among the gay.

    Wild with laughter romped the clear
    Boyish voices round its walls;
    Rare wild-roses were the dear
    Girlish faces in its halls,
    Music-haunted all the year.

    Far before it meadows full
    Of green pennyroyal sank;
    Clover-dotted as with wool
    Here and there; with now a bank
    Hot of color; and the cool

    Dark-blue shadows unconfined
    Of the clouds rolled overhead:
    Clouds, from which the summer wind
    Blew with rain, and freshly shed
    Dew upon the flowerkind.

    Where through mint and gypsy-lily
    Runs the rocky brook away,
    Musical among the hilly
    Solitudes, - its flashing spray
    Sunlight-dashed or forest-stilly, - 

    Buried in deep sassafras,
    Memory follows up the hill
    Still some cowbell's mellow brass,
    Where the ruined water-mill
    Looms, half-hid in cane and grass....

    Oh, the farmhouse! is it set
    On the hilltop still? 'mid musk
    Of the meads? where, violet,
    Deepens all the dreaming dusk,
    And the locust-trees hang wet.

    While the sunset, far and low,
    On its westward windows dashes
    Primrose or pomegranate glow;
    And above, in glimmering splashes,
    Lilac stars the heavens sow.

    Sleeps it still among its roses, - 
    Oldtime roses? while the choir
    Of the lonesome insects dozes:
    And the white moon, drifting higher,
    O'er its mossy roof reposes - 
    Sleeps it still among its roses?

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Type of Poem: Reflective Poem

Date Written:

Date Published:

Language: English

Keywords: Public Domain

Source: Public Domain Collection

Publisher:

Rights/Permissions: Public Domain

Comments/Notes: This poem is a rich, sensory exploration of nostalgia and the passage of time, set against the vivid backdrop of an old farmhouse. The poet employs a balance of personification and vivid, tactile imagery that engages the senses, painting a picture of a space that is as much a character as it is a setting. The leading theme is the interrelationship between the natural world and human memory, showing how landscapes can evoke powerful recollections and emotions.

The structure of the poem, comprised of smaller stanzas, each with its unique focus, creates a rhythm that mirrors the ebb and flow of memory. The poet also uses color symbolism to create a vibrant, almost dreamlike atmosphere, with hues like lavender, pearl, brown, and gray weaving in and out of the verses. These colors reflect both the physical state of the farmhouse and the nuanced emotions associated with memory and time.

The tone of the poem is one of poignant longing mixed with a sense of peace. This is particularly evident in the final verses where the farmhouse, personified, sleeps "among its roses," a phrase that conveys both tranquility and a hint of melancholy. This mix of tones leaves the reader with a sense of reverence for the passing of time and the enduring beauty of nature.

The literary device of personification also stands out, most notably when the poet describes Spring as a 'beggermaid' who is subsequently 'clothed' and 'wedded' by the 'god' with the 'bright sun for a crown,' this rich metaphor infusing the landscape with a mythical, timeless quality.

In conclusion, this poem is a thoughtful and evocative exploration of nostalgia, memory, and the natural world, its language and imagery combining to create a powerful sense of place and emotion.