"After the Storm" by William Bradford‘Remembrance’: A Poem by Daniel Howard The Society November 24, 2023 Love Poems, Poetry 12 Comments . Remembrance I When I, a boy whom youth made bold, Had bid my land of birth one last adieu, To search for glory, fame and gold On distant shores, as seamen do, Drowning old worries in the waves of blue, Exchanging comfort for the cold, The land for sea, the self-same sea for land, And that old tongue which often told Tales of me finding on some strand Not I in his, but Fate within my hand; . II Remembrance of your misty eyes, More overwhelming than ten storms at sea In force, in passion, and in size, In power and intensity, Then called me back again, commanding me No more to seek, but to despise Long looked-for praise as vacuous and vain; To scorn ambition’s newest prize, And throw its trophies in disdain Over the surface of the ocean main. . III Look how a zephyr passing by The flickering remnants of a rain-soaked fire Breathes life where blackest ashes lie, Raising those hidden cinders higher Which time long tried, but never did expire; Remembrance of your parting sigh Thus fanned the spark of love, by tears made tame, (Drenched, never doused, by weeping I), And in that instant, passion’s flame Consumed me whole, as I called out your name. . IV So did I burn within my being (Then wasting in the midst of wild emotion), That, from my plans and future fleeing, I dived, and swam with great commotion, Thinking that I could melt away the ocean; Sweet was the hope, the hope of seeing Cold distance thaw before a heart aglow, But fire and ice were now agreeing That fire may live, yet never go One metre more across the liquid snow. . V Yet even as a raging blaze Forcibly bounded in by sodden ground Ascends the aether’s star-strewn maze, Its smoke expanding all around Until it conquers every hill and mound; So having looked with languished gaze Across the waves, their length unknown, I turned my head towards the rays, And murmured on the breeze a moan, To tell you, oh my love, who are alone: . VI Never will any length of mile Stretch to the dreadful limit of destruction Remembrance of your crimson smile The moment of our introduction, Which, being recalled, renews my first seduction; The memories that now beguile, The love I have, are not of time nor space: Time cannot age, decay, defile The fond recalling of your face, Nor space imprison boundless love’s embrace. . VII And as a lonesome hummingbird Lately migrated from his winter nest Warbles a wish, a wish unheard, Once more to have his friend take rest (After a blustery flight) against his breast; So I, whom your sweet thought had stirred, Made of my moan a most melodious form: You will not hear, but feel each word That then whirled out of passion’s storm When, reaching you, they make the wind turn warm. . VIII And when that breeze, that breath of Spring, Blankets your soft and clover-cushioned skin, Blows down each lash, so as to bring Your eyes to close, your mouth to grin, And thereby cause a daydream to begin; Then shall you seem to hear me sing Of that which was, as if that time were now, Then shall you seem to feel me fling My arms around you, as I vow My sworn return: think not of when nor how. . . Daniel Joseph Howard studied law in his native Ireland before taking his MA in philosophy at King’s College London. After working in the European Commission, he is now pursuing a PhD in Philosophy at Boston College. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Trending now: 12 Responses Roy Eugene Peterson November 24, 2023 Daniel, this is a beautiful and excellent poem of departure from a loved one and longing to be with them again. This is one of the best I have ever read as it relates to such fondness and desire as one sails off into the sunrise or sunset depending on the direction. I am reminded of a song sung by Roger Whitaker, titled “The Last Farewell” that begins with the lines: “There’s a ship lies rigged and ready in the harbor Tomorrow for old England she sails Far away from your land of endless sunshine To my land full of rainy skies and gales. And I shall be aboard that ship tomorrow Though my heart is full of tears at this farewell.” Reply Daniel Howard November 25, 2023 Thanks for your kind comment, Roy, and for pasting the song which is new to me. Reply Allegra Silberstein November 24, 2023 Thanks for your beautiful poem telling of love. Reply Daniel Howard November 25, 2023 Thanks Allegra. Reply Cynthia Erlandson November 24, 2023 This is just marvelous — gut-wrenching, yet done with such great artistry that it doesn’t sound maudlin. The last line of your first verse, I found particularly impressive, as well as your ending “… think not of when nor how”. Your extended metaphor in verse three is absolutely exquisite! The imagery in it, and in other following metaphors, is beautiful and flawless. Reply Daniel Howard November 25, 2023 Thanks Cynthia, Edmund Spenser was a master of the extended metaphor, as seen in some of his sonnets. Here is the opening octave of Sonnet LXXXIX: LYKE as the Culuer on the bared bough, Sits mourning for the absence of her mate; and in her songs sends many a wishfull vow, for his returne that seemes to linger late. So I alone now left disconsolate, mourne to my selfe the absence of my loue: and wandring here and there all desolate, seek with my playnts to match that mournful doue. Reply Cynthia Erlandson November 25, 2023 Thank you, Daniel. That is beautiful. Julian D. Woodruff November 24, 2023 A piece of Beauty, Mr. Howard. I echo what Cynthia has said. I also find the relation of 4- and 5-foot line lengths very compelling. Reply Daniel Howard November 25, 2023 Thanks Julian, the pattern of 4- and 5-foot lines was inspired by St. John of the Cross’ ‘Canciones del alma’. In essence, I doubled the length of his stanza (connecting them via an interlinking rhyme) and added one foot for the shorter lines. Reply Daniel Howard November 25, 2023 Thanks Cynthia, Edmund Spenser was a master of the extended metaphor, as seen in some of his sonnets. Here is the opening octave of Sonnet LXXXIX: LYKE as the Culuer on the bared bough, Sits mourning for the absence of her mate; and in her songs sends many a wishfull vow, for his returne that seemes to linger late. So I alone now left disconsolate, mourne to my selfe the absence of my loue: and wandring here and there all desolate, seek with my playnts to match that mournful doue. Reply Margaret Coats November 25, 2023 Daniel, you take full advantage of division into stanzas. Each one is a powerful picture contributing to the romantic narrative, and each final couplet strikes an impressive chord like the crest of a wave, with the last couplet of the poem a good overall conclusion. The fire image in III, the fire-and-ice in IV, and the bird-and-breeze in VII work especially well. For my taste, “grin” in VIII is a poor choice contrary to the general effect, but that may be the association of the word to me, and not too low as others read it. The whole is wonderful. Reply Daniel Howard November 26, 2023 Thanks for your comment and insight Margaret. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Roy Eugene Peterson November 24, 2023 Daniel, this is a beautiful and excellent poem of departure from a loved one and longing to be with them again. This is one of the best I have ever read as it relates to such fondness and desire as one sails off into the sunrise or sunset depending on the direction. I am reminded of a song sung by Roger Whitaker, titled “The Last Farewell” that begins with the lines: “There’s a ship lies rigged and ready in the harbor Tomorrow for old England she sails Far away from your land of endless sunshine To my land full of rainy skies and gales. And I shall be aboard that ship tomorrow Though my heart is full of tears at this farewell.” Reply
Daniel Howard November 25, 2023 Thanks for your kind comment, Roy, and for pasting the song which is new to me. Reply
Cynthia Erlandson November 24, 2023 This is just marvelous — gut-wrenching, yet done with such great artistry that it doesn’t sound maudlin. The last line of your first verse, I found particularly impressive, as well as your ending “… think not of when nor how”. Your extended metaphor in verse three is absolutely exquisite! The imagery in it, and in other following metaphors, is beautiful and flawless. Reply
Daniel Howard November 25, 2023 Thanks Cynthia, Edmund Spenser was a master of the extended metaphor, as seen in some of his sonnets. Here is the opening octave of Sonnet LXXXIX: LYKE as the Culuer on the bared bough, Sits mourning for the absence of her mate; and in her songs sends many a wishfull vow, for his returne that seemes to linger late. So I alone now left disconsolate, mourne to my selfe the absence of my loue: and wandring here and there all desolate, seek with my playnts to match that mournful doue. Reply
Julian D. Woodruff November 24, 2023 A piece of Beauty, Mr. Howard. I echo what Cynthia has said. I also find the relation of 4- and 5-foot line lengths very compelling. Reply
Daniel Howard November 25, 2023 Thanks Julian, the pattern of 4- and 5-foot lines was inspired by St. John of the Cross’ ‘Canciones del alma’. In essence, I doubled the length of his stanza (connecting them via an interlinking rhyme) and added one foot for the shorter lines. Reply
Daniel Howard November 25, 2023 Thanks Cynthia, Edmund Spenser was a master of the extended metaphor, as seen in some of his sonnets. Here is the opening octave of Sonnet LXXXIX: LYKE as the Culuer on the bared bough, Sits mourning for the absence of her mate; and in her songs sends many a wishfull vow, for his returne that seemes to linger late. So I alone now left disconsolate, mourne to my selfe the absence of my loue: and wandring here and there all desolate, seek with my playnts to match that mournful doue. Reply
Margaret Coats November 25, 2023 Daniel, you take full advantage of division into stanzas. Each one is a powerful picture contributing to the romantic narrative, and each final couplet strikes an impressive chord like the crest of a wave, with the last couplet of the poem a good overall conclusion. The fire image in III, the fire-and-ice in IV, and the bird-and-breeze in VII work especially well. For my taste, “grin” in VIII is a poor choice contrary to the general effect, but that may be the association of the word to me, and not too low as others read it. The whole is wonderful. Reply