I have chosen this week’s poem for Rachel’s youngest son William. He is a great traveller and has recently been training in Tewkesbury so “Tewkesbury Road” by John Masefield seems appropriate.
IT is good to be out on the road, and going one knows not where,
John Masefield (1878—1967)
Going through meadow and village, one knows not whither or why;
Through the grey light drift of the dust, in the keen cool rush of the air,
Under the flying white clouds, and the broad blue lift of the sky.
Poem 452. Tewkesbury Road
IT is good to be out on the road, and going one knows not where,
Going through meadow and village, one knows not whither or why;
Through the grey light drift of the dust, in the keen cool rush of the air,
Under the flying white clouds, and the broad blue lift of the sky.
And to halt at the chattering brook, in a tall green fern at the brink
Where the harebell grows, and the gorse, and the foxgloves purple and white;
Where the shifty-eyed delicate deer troop down to the brook to drink
When the stars are mellow and large at the coming on of the night.
O, to feel the beat of the rain, and the homely smell of the earth,
Is a tune for the blood to jig to, and joy past power of words;
And the blessed green comely meadows are all a-ripple with mirth
At the noise of the lambs at play and the dear wild cry of the birds.
In this poem Masefield brings us the simple pleasure of walking in the English countryside when one has no destination in mind. Tramping across meadows and discovering villages of which one knows little or nothing and the pleasure of enjoying “the keen cool rush of the air” on a fine day. Stopping at a stream, you may see all the wildflowers that profit from its waters and the wild deer that drink from it when dusk falls. Then, when the rain falls and petrichor fills our noses with its earthy scent, our hearts lift and happiness suffuses us so that the fields of lambs and the birds themselves seem to join us in our joy.
Masefield’s skill with words is displayed fully here: I like the way he conjures for us the feel of a long walk on dusty roads under a skyful of racing clouds; I like the description of the wildflowers at the edge of the shady brook and the prospect of encountering the shy deer at nightfall, and I like his delight and love of the outdoors and the natural world.
I think he had a wonderful talent for phrases: “The grey light drift of the dust”, “the shy-eyed delicate deer” and “a joy past power of words” are all marvellous.
Will has travelled the world and loves the outdoors, so he is very much in tune with Masefield’s sentiments here. I wish him a bright future in outdoor education, a calling for which he seems very much suited.
I have chosen the performance by Edith Evans on YouTube.