Charles Sorley
And this is morning. Would you think
That this was the morning, when the land
Is full of heavy eyes that blink
Half-opened, and the tall trees stand
Too tired to shake away the drops
Of passing night that cling around
Their branches and weigh down their tops:
And the grey sky leans on the ground?
The thrush sings once or twice, but stops
Affrighted by the silent sound.
The sheep, scarce moving, munches, moans.
The slow herd mumbles, thick with phlegm.
The grey road-mender, hacking stones,
Is now become as one of them.
Old mother Earth has rubbed her eyes
And stayed, so senseless, lying down.
Old mother is too tired to rise
And lay aside her grey nightgown,
And come with singing and with strength
In loud exuberance of day,
Swift-darting. She is tired at length,
Done up, past bearing, you would say.
She’ll come no more in lust of strife,
In hedges’ leap, and wild birds’ cries,
In winds that cut you like a knife,
In days of laughter and swift skies,
That palpably pulsate with life,
With life that kills, with life that dies.
But in a morning such as this
Is neither life nor death to see,
Only that state which some call bliss,
Grey hopeless immortality.
Earth is at length bedrid. She is
Supinest of the things that be:
And stilly, heavy with long years,
Brings forth such days in dumb regret,
Immortal days, that rise in tears,
And cannot, though they strive to, set.
* * * * *
The mists do move. The wind takes breath.
The sun appeareth over there,
And with red fingers hasteneth
From Earth’s grey bed the clothes to tear,
And strike the heavy mist’s dank tent.
And Earth uprises with a sigh.
She is astir. She is not spent.
And yet she lives and yet can die.
The grey road-mender from the ditch
Looks up. He has not looked before.
The stunted tree sways like the witch
It was: ’tis living witch once more.
The winds are washen. In the deep
Dew of the morn they’ve washed. The skies
Are changing dress. The clumsy sheep
Bound, and earth’s many bosoms rise,
And earth’s green tresses spring and leap
About her brow. The earth has eyes,
The earth has voice, the earth has breath,
As o’er the land and through the air,
With wingéd sandals, Life and Death
Speed hand in hand–that winsome pair!
_16 September 1913_
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem captures a moment of transition, focusing on the sluggish and tired state of the world at the start of the day. The speaker presents a rather bleak and almost dismal portrayal of morning, where life is slow, reluctant, and weighed down by the lingering effects of night. The earth and its creatures seem exhausted, as if caught between life and death, too weary to fully awaken. The trees are described as heavy with the remnants of night, and the land is full of “heavy eyes that blink” and animals that are “scarce moving.” The imagery emphasizes a sense of inertia and resignation, as if nature itself is too tired to rise and shake off the weariness of night.
The speaker then turns to personify Earth, calling her “Old mother Earth” who is too tired to rise and engage with the world. There is a sense of apathy in this portrayal—Earth has lived through cycles of life and death, and now, in this moment, she is beyond exertion, beyond the passions and joys of life. This moment of stillness is described as a form of “hopeless immortality,” where neither life nor death is truly present, just a passive existence in a state of exhaustion.
However, the second part of the poem shifts in tone. The mist begins to move, the wind stirs, and the sun emerges, breaking through the fog and giving life to the world again. This marks the return of activity, as the earth shakes off its slumber, and life and death are presented as moving in tandem, “hand in hand.” The earth is no longer inert but is actively involved in the cycle of life, symbolized by the sheep bounding and the trees swaying back to life. Earth, personified once more, “has eyes,” “has voice,” and “has breath,” signaling a return to vitality and agency.
The poem contrasts the stillness of an exhausted, almost defeated Earth with the resurgence of life and energy as morning progresses. It suggests that even in times of weariness, there is a force—represented by the sun and the wind—that rekindles the world, pulling it from the brink of lifelessness into active existence. This transition speaks to the inevitable return of vitality and change, even after periods of stagnation.
There is also a subtle commentary on the cycle of life and death within the poem. The first part evokes a kind of stasis, where Earth seems trapped in an endless, lifeless state. Yet, the arrival of the sun and the stirrings of nature show that both life and death are ongoing processes. Life, though it may seem to pause, inevitably returns, a constant cycle of awakening and slumber.
In its entirety, the poem captures both the fragility and resilience of the natural world. It shows Earth as a living entity that must periodically rest, yet always returns with the energy to continue its cycle. The interplay between life and death, stillness and motion, exhaustion and rejuvenation, is central to this reflection on the human condition and the world around us. The final image of “Life and Death / Speed hand in hand” beautifully encapsulates the constant rhythm of existence, ever-moving, ever-present, and ever-incomplete.