The best poems remain under the surface until they are needed. The poetry of Charles Causley is like that; poems I read or learned years ago just come back to me for no apparent reason. Many of his poems are in my hinterland. What’s in yours?
Green Man in the Garden
Green Man in the garden
Staring from the tree,
Why do you look so long and hard
Through the pane at me?
Your eyes are dark as holly,
Of sycamore your horns,
Your bones are made of elder-branch,
Your teeth are made of thorns.
Your hat is made of ivy-leaf,
Of bark your dancing shoes,
And evergreen and green and green
Your jacket and shirt and trews.
“Leave your house and leave your land
And throw away the key,
And never look behind,” he creaked,
“And come and live with me.”
I bolted up the window,
I bolted up the door,
I drew the blind that I should find
The green man never more.
But when I softly turned the stair
As I went up to bed,
I saw the green man standing there.
“Sleep well, my friend,” he said.