January Song

Bill Wootton's quietly contemplative life left an intriguing legacy of poetry: reflections on Nature, especially in winter, English towns and French landscapes, school life, tortuous love, ancient history, religion and Greek tragedy. "A Relationship" Once her dull scowl revealed her imperfection I was love’s slave. Angels can be resisted, But not the common bond of being human. So I became the lover of this woman Who knew like me the shame of the hasty action, How the uncertain motive becomes twisted, How the result is never what you meant Unless it’s dreadfully so. She never knew But what I loved was her inchoateness, A greedy body groping to express Ideals beyond itself (lovely in blue Dressing-gown after bath, fragrant with scent Of soap). And when she drove me half-demented Being so changeable, could I complain If human nature was the thing I wanted? I was human too. I gave her equal pain.