As I mentioned before, although John Masefield is one of my favourite poets, not all his poems seem to be quite my cup of tea… which is a personal thing and doesn’t necessarily reflect on the work itself.
There are aspects of this sonnet; I like, the imagery as ever with Masefield is vivid and triggers so many thoughts, memories and ideas. It starts with the physical response to the presence of the loved one, but then moves away; there are roses, glowing and flourishing in the summer sun. You can imagine the perfume coming from them in the warmth of the day, the busy streets, crowded with people rushing on all sorts of purpose, the castle under attack and broken down, the cells opened, the bars broken and friends coming out of their imprisonment to meet each other after much suffering, and again the symbol of the rose. The last couple of lines, taking us through two more seasons complete this sonnet.
Not for your human beauty nor the power
To shake me by your voice or by your touch,
Summer must have its rose, the rose must flower,
Beauty burn deep, I do not yield to such.
No, but because your beauty where it falls
Lays bare the spirits in the crowded streets,
Shatters the lock, destroys the castle walls,
Breaks down the bars till friend with comrade meets,
So that I wander brains where beauty dwelled
In long dead time, and see again the rose
By long dead men for living beauty held,
That Death’s knife spares, and Winter with his snows,
And know it bloodied by that pulse of birth
Which greens the grass in Aprils upon earth.
Lois Elsden 