Morning At Last: There in the Snow by Philip Larkin
Morning At Last: There in the Snow
Philip LarkinMorning at last: there in the snow
Your small blunt footprints come and go.
Night has left no more to show,Not the candle, the half-drunk wine,
Or touching joy; only this sign
Of your life walking into mine.But when they vanish with the rain
What morning woke to will remain
Whether as happiness or pain.
MARGINALIA
Haven’t been sleeping right these past few days. My morning’s the night, my night’s the morning, or sometimes, the afternoon. I hardly make sense anymore, most of all to myself, but I suppose one is entitled to such period of madness.
ABOUT PHILIP LARKIN
Philip Larkin was born in Coventry, England in 1922. He earned his BA from St. John’s College, Oxford. He worked in libraries his entire life, first in Shropshire and Leicester, and then at Queen’s College in Belfast, and finally as librarian at the University of Hull. In addition to collections of poetry, Larkin published two novels—Jill (1946) and A Girl in Winter (1947)—as well as criticism, essays, and reviews of jazz music. The latter were collected in two volumes: All… (more)
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ENDNOTES
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