Autumn Leaves, Millais |
The Leaf
Burners
Under two oak
trees
on top of the fell,
With an old
hawthorn hedge
to hold off the wind,
I saw the leaf
burners
brushing the leaves
With their long
brooms
into the blaze.
Above them, the
sky
scurried along
Pale as a
plate,
and peered thro' the oaks,
While the
hurrying wind
harried the hedge.
But fast as
they swept
Into the flame
that flickered, and fumed,
The wind, the
tree-shaker,
shaking the boughs,
Whirled others
down
withered and wan —
Summer's small
folk,
faded, and fain
To give up
their life;
earth unto earth,
Ashes to ashes,
life unto death.
Far on the
fell,
where the road ran,
I heard the men
march,
in the mouth of the wind:
And the leaf
burners heard
and leaned down their heads,
Brow upon
broom,
and let the leaves lie,
that crossed over sea,
And left wife
and wean,
to fight in the war.
Forth over
fell,
I fared on my way ;
Yet often
looked back,
when the wind blew,
To see the
flames coil
like a curl of bright hair
Round the face
of a child —
a flower of fire,
Beneath the
long boughs
where, lush and alive,
The leaves
flourished long,
loving the sun.
Much I thought
then
of men that went forth,
Or dropt like
the leaves,
to die and to live;
While the leaf
burners
with their long brooms
Drew them
together
I wondered at
that,
walking the fell —
Feeling the
wind
that wafted the leaves
And set their
souls
free of the smoke,
Free of the
dead,
speeding the flame
To spire on the
air —
a spark that should spring
In me, man of
men;
last of the leaves.
-- Ernest Rhys
The poem describes a simple country scene as winter
approaches: leaf burners use long brooms to push fallen leaves onto a bonfire. As the leaf-burners work, they are watched by
a sky that scurries along, “pale as a plate,” by the hurrying wind, and by a
solitary wanderer or fell-walker (fell
is a dialect word used in northwest England to refer to a hill or area of high
land).
As fast as they sweep, the leaf-burners cannot keep up with
the leaves that are continually dropping, whirled by the wind, “withered and
wan.” Fallen leaves, and fallen men on the battlefield -- the poem joins the two. The brown leaves that were once
young and green, “Summer’s small folk,” are now faded, and yet they are willing – even pleased
– to “give up their life.” The phrase “ashes to ashes,” although describing the burned leaves, also recalls the Anglican
burial rite and reminds us that in the midst of death, there is the promise of
resurrection: “Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the
spirit shall return unto God who gave it” (Ecclesiastes 12: 7).
From the hillside, the leaf-burners hear on the nearby road, "in the mouth of the wind," the
marching steps of men walking to war. The sound causes the leaf-burners to pause,
resting “brow upon broom,” as they remember their loved ones who have “left wife
and wean” to fight in the Great War (wean
is a Northern English/Scottish term for an infant). The lonely hill walker also pauses to
remember the millions of missing soldiers who, like the leaves, were once “lush
and alive…loving the sun.” The wanderer likens the men to the leaves, hoping that the countless soldiers’ sacrifice
was not meaningless, but that they dropt “to die and to live,” their souls set
free from their bodies to soar like sparks above the bonfire.
Ernest Rhys, a Welsh-English writer, published “The Leaf Burners” in 1918. Better known as the founder of the Everyman Library, Rhys is largely forgotten as a poet, with the exception of “Lost in France,” (or “Remembering Jo”) a short poem that was included in the 2014 Poems on the Underground. The only record I can find of “The Leaf Burners” having been reprinted was in the Golden Book of Modern English Poetry (1936) -- and this information was shared with me by a blog reader. The poem has since been included in International Poetry of the First World War (2020).
A beautiful mournful melancholy poem indeed. Perfect for a day, a time of longing and wistful yearning for those gone away. And yes - the alliteration and the kenning quality - don't you just love kennings? - the war-worried, flame holders and the fell-farer. Thank-you
ReplyDeleteNot a thing I'd add, Josie -- exactly my response to this lovely poem.
ReplyDelete