Hi Mike. It is so difficult to write this kind of thing unless, I feel, one
is intensely involved in the person whose life, or part of it,one is
sketching. Whether you are or not I do not know but certainly any
intellectual or emotional involvement by you in the lady's past is not
communicated.
You also assume that anyone reading this will know who Claire Clairemont was
and whose was the father of Allegra. I have to say that without Google I
would never have known but then Byron had many lovers. Who could name them
all? This is an ambitious poem and a worthy attempt in which the poetry
avoids sentimentality and judgment and that is a plus. I did enjoy the read
and was grateful for having been led to discover the history behind the
poem. Thanks for a good read. Arthur.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Mike Horwood" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Monday, February 02, 2004 9:54 AM
Subject: new sub: Claire Clairmont
Claire Clairmont And Allegra
It is not true to say that her soul was withered
within her by the death of her five-year-old child,
though she said herself she had never again smiled
absolutely; without happiness she could still be happy.
Far from familiar scenes she stepped on strange stairs
to her room´s cold and lonely austerity.
But she often remarked, those whom posterity
had honoured with greatness were numbered among her friends,
though her passage through life had been solitary.
And when she died, in a country remote from her
daughter´s grave, the shawl, her lover´s last gift to her
sixty years earlier, was laid in the coffin.
When violet evening clouds were edged with orange,
reflected in still water, she watched the day´s slow wane.
And though this scene could not remove her pain,
she never tried to believe that her loss negated its beauty.
Mike
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