Let my soul, a shining tree, Silver branches lift towards thee, Where on a hallowed winter's night The clear-eyed angels may alight.
But I've grown thoughtful now. And you have lost Your early-morning freshness of surprise At being so utterly mine: you've learned to fear The gloomy, stricken places in my soul, And the occasional ghosts that haunt my gaze.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote reflects on the evolution of intimacy and understanding in a relationship, where initial freshness gives way to deeper awareness and fears.
In this quote, Siegfried Sassoon captures the poignant shift in a relationship where initial excitement and discovery is replaced with a deeper, more contemplative understanding of each other's complexities. The speaker acknowledges that their partner has moved from a state of innocent surprise and love to one where fears and hidden pains are recognized, indicating a more profound yet challenging connection formed over time.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
In a discussion about the complexities of love, one might use this quote to illustrate how relationships deepen over time.
More from Siegfried Sassoon
All quotes →EVERYONE suddenly burst out singing; And I was filled with such delight As prisoned birds must find in freedom, Winging wildly across the white Orchards and dark-green fields; on—on—and out of sight. Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted; And beauty came like the setting sun: My heart was shaken with tears; and horror Drifted away ... O, but Everyone Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.
I am a soldier, convinced that I am acting on behalf of soldiers.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin they think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.
The dead...are more real than the living because they are complete.
For it is humanly certain that most of us remember very little of what we have read. To open almost any book a second time is to be reminded that we had forgotten well-nigh everything that the writer told us. Parting from the narrator and his narrative, we retain only a fading impression; and he, as it were, takes the book away from us and tucks it under his arm.
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