Friday, December 07, 2012

Mistletoe by Walter de la Mare

Our oak trees bear a few large clusters of mistletoe.  And driving around, I see their green clumps all over.  I asked a neighbor how I could 'harvest' some of my own.  He told me to shoot them down.  Right.  OK, then.  He does not realize how much danger his property would be in if I ever took a gun outdoors.  In fact, I always picture myself telling the intruder, "Could you come a little closer and just stand very still?  Thanks."  Strange rabbit trail of thought aside, I do like this poem for its sweet romantic sleepiness.

by:  Walter de la Mare

Sitting under the mistletoe
(Pale green, fairy mistletoe),
One last candle burning low,
All the sleepy dancers gone,
Just one candle burning on,
Shadows lurking everywhere:
Someone came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go
Nodding under the mistletoe
(Pale green, fairy mistletoe)
No footsteps came, no voice, but only,
Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,
Stooped in the still and shadowy air
Lips unseen - and kissed me there.

*image from - a vintage postcard with mistletoe curled around the scene

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