22/10/1959 ...when you bade me stop

Another beautiful and wistfully romantic poem from Mr Nash to Marianne today. Nothing unusual in that, other than a pencilled footnote on it. Read on...

Written before Oct 22nd - when you bade me stop

And do you think Mr Nash did stop...?

19/10/1959 Autumn leaves fall at your feet

Let my thoughts as autumn leaves
Fall at your feet and spend themselves
In golden thriftlessness, that you enjoy
Their rustling canticles of praise,
Then, glancing at my nakedness, you'll say
He gave his all because he must, for me.

19th October, 1959

7/10/1959 This is the summer's end

From this poem from Mr Nash dated 7th October 1959, it seems that Marianne is still not visiting his bookshop. I wonder how he is getting the poems to her...

This is the summer's end
With golden days like gossamer
Now fled before rude winds which bend
All things, save memory, upon themselves.

When shall I see you stand
Again with your proud lissom grace
Mirrored against the sun's demand
Yet like a pearl that adds to beauty's breast?

This is the summer's end
When austere winds do rudely touch
On truth and dreams, yet leave for friend
Sweet memories, and hope for distant spring.

7th October, 1959

20/9/1959 September leaves

Thanks to Mr Nash, I now know that 'sear' also means 'withered'... And here's a strange little tale of leaves. I went into the garden last night, armed with my iPhone torch as it was pitch black out there, to find some autumnal leaves. I wanted a maple leaf-shape, but there aren't any such trees in my garden - just a few fruit trees, and several dreaded leylandii. But there it was, at the end of the garden, the perfect leaf. Just the one!

So tenderly,
So trustfully
The darling buds of May *
Appear.

So sear
September leaves display
Glad memories,
Sad phantasies

20-9-1959

*quite deliberately stolen!

17/9/1959 Seven long weeks...

So it seems that Marianne's visits to Jon Ash bookshop on Cullum Street in the City of London had come to an abrupt halt according to the poem Mr Nash wrote below on 17 September 1959, and he clearly felt that impact deeply. But it didn't stop his adoration or poetry-writing...

Reading again the verses I have made for you
I live once more the moments' ecstacy
When I did see you as you were, and are,
- Who could but worship where such beauty dwells?
And now, in retrospect I see, when silence
Held me in her sifting self-absorbed embrace
For seven long weeks, where every moment
Still was filled with your sweet presence felt,
That to myself I have been true
And all my words which, wounding as they went
From me, have laid me bare
Yet must I praise, for there's my destiny.

17/9/1959

20/7/1959 I have seen your cedars once again

This poem from Mr Nash, written on 20th July 1959, speaks of reminiscence. Her 'old Streatham days' may have been when she had a boyfriend who lived there a few years previously, as mentioned in a previous blog post. 

I presume Cyril was familiar with the place too but any more detail than that, I don't know. He lived in Croydon at this time, as far as I'm aware. And the cedars? They obviously had great significance and sentiment to him, in his keen efforts to connect with her.

I have seen your cedars once again;
Did you not know I know that they
By you are known? Cast back your mind
To those old Streatham days, for though
I did not know you then, you would have seen
These noble trees that reign with beauty
In this old world Rookery.
Yet underneath their brooding boughs
Your presence I discern, and feel with equal pain
The sad old music of remembered make-believe;
Ah yes, I have my dreams, and if they waken
Painful thoughts, then think of me
And my deep misery, for underneath their leaves
I think and weep for you.

20th July, 1959

17/7/1959 My poor unlovely self...

As it's National Poetry Day today, I thought I'd add a poem that I overlooked posting a few months ago - from 17th July 1959. As was clear from other poems Mr Nash wrote to Marianne around this time, her visits to his bookshop were now less frequent, her being overwhelmed by his attention in the form of adoring verses. He writes to state his case, to justify his actions, to stand firm in his feelings, but promising to cease in respect of her apparent wishes. 

A pencil-written note on the poem refers to him wanting to publish this particular poem, but knowing Marianne would object. And then lightheartedly stating that he's changed his mind about his promise to stand down with his attention, as he is unable...

Since I have lost the battle for your time,
For you no longer wish to speak to me
Alone, I will not stage a pantomime;
Let me depart and seek fresh company.

I have not wished to tyrannize, or force
My poor unlovely self upon your view,
But equally, I can have no remorse
For things I've said and versified for you.

Or do you think me just a little mad?
I must admit I am was with beauty crazed;
My words were not extravagantly clad
For I have seen quite clearly all I've praised.

I will not then molest you any more,
But live on memories of things I saw.

17th July, 1959

I like this very much but know you will not let me use it - and I have changed my mind! I will always molest you - I cannot do otherwise