Treasure Island

Henry Reed

(22 February 1914 - 8 December 1986 / Birmingham)

A Map of Verona


Quelle belle heure, quels bons bras
me rendront ces régions d'où mes
sommeils et mes moindres mouvements?


A map of Verona is open, the small strange city;
With its river running round and through, it is river-embraced,
And over this city for a whole long winter season,
Through streets on a map, my thoughts have hovered and paced.

Across the river there is a wandering suburb,
An unsolved smile on a now familiar mouth;
Some enchantments of earlier towns are about you:
Once I was drawn to Naples in the south.

Naples I know now, street and hovel and garden,
The look of the islands from the avenue,
Capri and Ischia, like approaching drum-beats—
My youthful Naples, how I remember you!

You were an early chapter, a practice in sorrow,
Your shadows fell, but were only a token of pain,
A sketch in tenderness, lust, and sudden parting,
And I shall not need to trouble with you again.

But I remember, once your map lay open,
As now Verona's under the still lamp-light.
I thought, are these the streets to walk in the mornings,
Are these the gardens to linger in at night?

And all was useless that I thought I learned:
Maps are of place, not time, nor can they say
The surprising height and colour of a building,
Nor where the groups of people bar the way.

It is strange to remember those thoughts and try to catch
The underground whispers of music beneath the years,
The forgotten conjectures, the clouded, forgotten vision,
Which only in vanishing phrases reappears.

Again, it is strange to lead a conversation
Round to a name, to a cautious questioning
Of travellers, who talk of Juliet's tomb and fountains
And a shining smile of snowfall, late in Spring.

Their memories calm this winter of expectation,
Their talk restrains me, for I cannot flow
Like your impetuous river to embrace you;
Yet you are there, and one day I shall go.

The train will bring me perhaps in utter darkness
And drop me where you are blooming, unaware
That a stranger has entered your gates, and a new devotion
Is about to attend and haunt you everywhere.

The flutes are warm: in tomorrow's cave the music
Trembles and forms inside the musician's mind,
The lights begin, and the shifting crowds in the causeways
Are discerned through the dusk, and the rolling river behind.

And in what hour of beauty, in what good arms,
Shall I those regions and that city attain
From whence my dreams and slightest movements rise?
And what good Arms shall take them away again?

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read poems about / on: river, city, remember, winter, music, lust, smile, running, sorrow, spring, beauty, people, pain, light, dream, memory, rose

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Map of Verona by Henry Reed )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. There Is Nothing But Darkness, Ronell Warren Alman
  2. Unpopped Corn Kernals and Cold Hearts..., Monk E. Biz
  3. The Full Moon, Vigna Mukund
  4. Adrenaline is my Mistress, Hayley Lewis
  5. Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.33, Monk E. Biz
  6. Incarnation, dr.k.g.balakrishnan kandangath
  7. Eternal creation, ramesh rai
  8. Lomp doch fijn besnaard 2, Madrason writer
  9. Treasured days..., David Lessard
  10. The body of my Temple lays unswept;, David McLansky

Poem of the Day

poet Geoffrey Chaucer

The firste stock-father of gentleness,
What man desireth gentle for to be,
Must follow his trace, and all his wittes dress,
Virtue to love, and vices for to flee;
...... Read complete »

   

Trending Poems

  1. 04 Tongues Made Of Glass, Shaun Shane
  2. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  3. Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
  4. Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
  5. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  6. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
  7. Invictus, William Ernest Henley
  8. Dreams, Langston Hughes
  9. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
  10. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost

Trending Poets

[Hata Bildir]