Black March, by Stevie Smith
Black March, a poem by Stevie Smith, 1902-1971
I have a friend
At the end
Of the world.
His name is a breath
Of fresh air.
He is dressed in
Grey chiffon. At least
I think it is chiffon.
It has a
Peculiar look, like smoke.
It wraps him round
It blows out of place
It conceals him
I have not seen his face.
But I have seen his eyes, they are
As pretty and bright
As raindrops on black twigs
In March, and heard him say:
I am a breath
Of fresh air for you, a change
By and by.
Black March I call him
Because of his eyes
Being like March raindrops
On black twigs.
(Such a pretty time when the sky
Behind black twigs can be seen
Stretched out in one
Uninterrupted
Cambridge blue as cold as snow.)
But this friend
Whatever new names I give him
Is an old friend. He says:
Whatever names you give me
I am
A breath of fresh air,
A change for you.
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Stevie Smith, 1902-1971
Collected Poems, S. Smith
Stevie Smith, British Library (with picture)
Stevie Smith, BBC (with picture and interview)
from The Believer, April 2005
Posted by
on 2005, April 23 at 07:12 PM
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