Thursday Poem

Grasmere Journal, 1801

A beautiful cloudless morning. Mt toothache better.
William at work on the Pedlar. Miss Gell
left a basket of excellent lettuces; I shelled
our scarlet beans. Walked out after dinner for letters—
met a man who had once been a Captain begging for alms.

The afternoon airy & warm. No letters. Came home
via the lake, which was near-turquoise
& startled by summer geese.
The soles on this year’s boot are getting worn.
Heard a tiny wounded yellow bird, sounding its alarm.

William as pale as a basin, exhausted with altering…
I boiled up pears with cloves.
Such visited evenings are sharp with love
I almost said dear, look. Either moonlight on Grasmere —like herrings!—
or the new moon holding the old moon in its arms.

by Sinead Morrissey
Carcenet, 2013