Posted by:
Hugh Clary (---.phoenix-01rh15-16rt.az.dial-access.att.net)
Well, if you hadn't dawdled so long, you might try this:
[
www.philiplarkin.com]
Since that option is likely unavailable now, let's take a look at the rascal:
Always too eager for the future, we
Pick up bad habits of expectancy.
Something is always approaching; every day
Till then we say,
Watching from a bluff the tiny, clear
Sparkling armada of promises draw near.
How slow they are! And how much time they waste,
Refusing to make haste!
Yet still they leave us holding wretched stalks
Of disappointment, for, though nothing balks
Each big approach, leaning with brasswork prinked,
Each rope distinct,
Flagged, and the figurehead with golden tits
Arching our way, it never anchors; it's
No sooner present than it turns to past.
Right to the last
We think each one will heave to and unload
All good into our lives, all we are owed
For waiting so devoutly and so long.
But we are wrong:
Only one ship is seeking us, a black-
Sailed unfamiliar, towing at her back
A huge and birdless silence. In her wake
No waters breed or break.
Some comments from another site:
[
plagiarist.com]
I confess I gawked at his 'golden tits', (figurehead on a ship) but surely it is safe to say it is an extended metaphor (look it up) comparing the sparkling armada of promises to our journey through life. Only one ship awaits us all at the end: Charon's ferry that takes us across the river Styx (remember to bring two coins to pay the ferryman).
The rhymes are aabbcc ... The meter is basically iambic pentameter, with the last line in each stanza curtailed (much like sapphics, but I am not sure if there is a standard form as such).