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Overheard on a Saltmarsh
Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?
Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?
Give them me.
No.
Give them me. Give them me.
No.
Then I will howl all night in the reeds,
Lie in the mud and howl for them.
Goblin, why do you love them so?
They are better than stars or water,
Better than voices of winds that sing,
Better than any man's fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring.
Hush, I stole them out of the moon.
Give me your beads, I want them.
No.
I will howl in the deep lagoon
For your green glass beads, I love them so.
Give them me. Give them.
No.
-- Harold Monro
3 comments:
The poem is great. I also love your picture Illustrating it, is it from the silent era of pictures or maybe they are trying evoke the mood of the era.
I have strung strings of green glass beads ...with crystals of aurora borealis...
and hung them in the sidelites of my foyer
in the low, late afternoon sunlight the rainbows dance in my living room
and the faeries dance in the garden
Luna C
My mother used to read me that poem when I was little, so vividly that I could imagine the goblin and nymph in their saltmarsh perfectly. She had a necklace then that we called her green glass beads, but when I was grown, she sent me a string of green glass beads to remind me of the poem. I never wear them, but keep them wrapped around my bedside lamp's shade. My mother passed away this month, one day after the Crow Moon was full. Thank you for helping me find this poem again.
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