Brothers

The phrase "Field of Flanders" identifies this as WW I, but the grief and grace herein attach themselves to any conflict.

Brothers

They called it “No Man’s Land," but God

was there. I know. I saw Him on

my darkest day, that suddenly

burned bright.

An ocean swept between

its dawn and night, and I paced decks

with mighty strides and wept their length.

My brother dead, whose gun I held

to spot a pheasant on a cloud?

that brother dead, whose rounded laugh

made silence of the waves’ white roar?

Out of the Field of Flanders plunged

the sound, and on another field

it echoed, and another broke

at heart.

As swiftly as my summons,

the word came, and I swung my trappings

across my untaught shoulders, blind

with grief.

Death were an easy thing

to face, since I had faced more bitter

anguish in that printed blow.

Without a hope, but staggered with

a madness that refused to count

him gone, I searched the billet rolls

and registers of wounded.

When

his name sprang black upon a page

it dazed me with its somber glow.

I stumbled through the halls . . . through row

On row of bandaged beds . . . and then

(how like a star, that unstarred night),

Great God! Good God! I saw his face.

Evelyn Coffey

I Have Been Brought a Rose

The profound depth of this poem keeps one internalized a long time, first in contemplation and then devout praise.

I have been brought a Rose

I have been brought

a rose:

born of, bred of

earth. and red of

sun and sky-strung rain.

With omnipotent thrift

an immortal gift

to mortal goes:

to less than flower,

less than rose-leaf,

less than rose-dust.

Creator, must

this withering hour,

this wilting leaf,

know its yield of pain

know less than grain

of immortality.

The germ of wheat

returns

my Lord

for me to eat!

(My tongue burns

to feel my God so close to me!)

Mind, who thought

my rose,

take it;

break it;

bind it into your crown of thorns

for me to see!

Be

its lover!

Mind, who thought

me,

take me,

break me,

(I who fled),

wear me like a crown of thorns

oh, sweet

my Lord

about your head!

Let me be

Your lover?

Evelyn Coffey

Departure

Departure

Sirens slung

Pointed slits of sound

Into the smoke-wrought air

And aching rods

Spat flame.

The ravenous mouth

Of distance

Spread its lips,

And you were gone.

My day is mute –

I am a violin whose tortured strings

Crave an unbroken bow –

Hollow as lyrics

Strummed on blanching trees.

Lullaby to One Recently from Heaven

Anytime Evelyn uses the rose symbolically, one wonders if she was writing of her beloved little sister Rose.

Lullaby to One Recently from Heaven

Down the centuries of rose,

down the centuries of dreams

you came

white-cloud sweet,

rose sweet,

rose dear;

down the centuries to now,

across the forever dust of forever,

new name,

white-hearted new name

(sounding beat of the Heart of God)

Wake us with the story

sing us the song

before we sleep again, Love;

before you sleep, Love

before you sleep!

* * * * *

Evelyn Coffey

On Hearing Schubert

This poem is one of the few that has a date . It also shows a first draft that Evelyn herself marked and changed. Each time I read her work, I am struck by the richness and scope of her extraordinary vocabulary.

1940 was six years after her mother died and also the beginning of WWII in Europe. I do not know if she had moved to Detroit by this time or was still in Cleveland. I suspect the former. The 1940 Census will not be released until April 2, 2012 but it will be a good way to check.

On Hearing Schubert’s Serenade Unfinished Symphony

Hear now the noble sounds,

And watch the twilight blow

Its purple breath

Upon my tree of elm.

How like a violin with muted bow

Its sweeter-than-an-organ strings

Transpose my body

To blue orchil heights.

No more of flesh am I,

But wood long mingled

In great Orpheus’ wine,

No cloven splinter but would strike

A fantasia on the silent sky.

Ah! no mere fashioned wood, but primal tree

That rocks her pregnant boughs

Across the moon’s white

Stony wisp disc of light.

Then all of tree am I,

Green lips to drink the conquer rain,

Bud-hearts to hold the plunder sun,

And birds within me singing.

Hear now the noble sounds!

Evelyn Coffey 3/29/40

Elizabeth Barrett to Robert Browning

I have no idea of the source of this poem and hope John can pitch in and tell us something about it.

Elizabeth Barrett to Robert Browning

Come in,

O Heart to fill my heart,

Come in!

The rusty latch

Is sprung:

No crimson key

Has flung

Its chiseled teeth

Into the lock

Wherewith it open lies;

But as blue Twilight

With a sudden quiet might

Lays siege of sunny Day

And makes her starry Night,

So you have undone me.

O heart to fill this heart

Come in!

Evelyn Coffey

Consecration

The date indicates this was written half a year after Evelyn lost her last family member, her mother. Is it literal, a gift for a friend's home? Or does it represent her family, seemingly perfect here on earth and now domiciled in its heavenly home?

Consecration

For love of Thee,

We built this home

On the wind-swept dome

Of an eastern hill,

Where the dawn splashes

Its purple gashes

Upon our window-sill.

Out of dark earth

And pale timber –

For love of Thee!

White as sea-foam are its walls,

Green-bordered with sea,

And wide its halls,

Love-deep as Thee.

Bless the wind’s brush

In the twilit hush

As it dusts our larkspur bloom.

Light our hearth,

With immortal timber

Each radiant room,

Love, awaits Thee,

Awaits but Thee.

Evelyn Coffey

2/16/39

The Physician

Somewhere Evelyn wrote about her love and respect for a particular doctor, but I cannot find the reference now and never knew his name.

The Physician

For him no night or day

save in the gentle healing

of the sun

or in the silver solace

of the stars.

His hands are consecrate

upon the jagged altar

of man’s flesh.

His mind would mount

the mystery of death.

His heart would soothe

The panic of white pain.

His feet would tread

Thy ministry, sweet Christ,

his soul in Thine.

Evelyn Coffey

(Published in February, 1937 Bulletin of the Academy of Medicine, Cleveland. Citation reads: [written as a tribute to her attending physician at Charity Hospital, Cleveland])

To a Soldier Artist

For the next few days I will print the poems mentioned in John Daniels' intro to the original website.

To a Soldier Artist

Dream, artist,

fingers dappled in sun!

Spring whitely

from the scarlet earth,

the hurting earth,

the suffering earth,

earth broken for love of you,

earth dying.

Sing, blood on blue blood ringing,

where prismed rain awaits,

and dust of snow,

and starshine.

Spill your heart in moonlight.

Ravish the moon,

the lonely moon,

the loverless moon,

with your art.

Evelyn Coffey

(original in initial capitals;

original title To H.H. Soldier Artist

handwritten in pencil on the back of

Thunderstorm in February.)