I’m in London for work and this morning I’ve been reading via the Poetry Foundation’s poetry app. Worth downloading if you don’t already have it. I’ve been reading poems of Sophie Jewett, a poet I don’tremember reading  before. Jowett is an American living through the second half of the nineteenth century. The poems have a strange, slightly nightmarish edge, though othertimes perhaps a little over sweet. I got interested in ‘Defeated’ and ‘Destiny’. Who is she talking to here? A lover? God? The sense of an underpinning presence of – is it? – love is powerful:


When the last fight is lost, the last sword broken;
The last call sounded, the last order spoken;
When from the field where braver hearts lie sleeping,
Faint, and athirst, and blinded, I come creeping,
With not one waving shred of palm to bring you,
With not one splendid battle-song to sing you,
O Love, in my dishonor and defeat,
Your measureless compassion will be sweet.

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