Nine Feet Underground

It's been a hectic week with lots of things to organise and get done at work and in life, so I've been a bit quieter than usual. Today, alas, will be no exception! One thing I did want to record is the poem I've been reading this week.  It's by an English poet I've shamefacedly never heard of before, Charlotte Mew, who is apparently a noteworthy poet but not very well known, which seems in part to be because she's a woman. The poem below, 'Not For That City', is intriguing.  The words and rhythm seem to have some kind of magic about them: I'm not entirely sure I've grasped the meaning of it all.  The meaning seems just slightly out of reach when I read it, but I find it both arresting and mesmerising, so much so that I've ordered a book of her poems - I want to learn more! Not for that city of the level sun,      Its golden streets and glittering gates ablaze—      The shadeless, sleepless city of white days, White nights, or nights and days ...