The poem
At last you yielded up the album, which Once open, sent me distracted. All your ages Matt and glossy on the thick black pages! Too much confectionery, too rich: I choke on such nutritious images.
My swivel eye hungers from pose to pose -- In pigtails, clutching a reluctant cat; Or furred yourself, a sweet girl-graduate; Or lifting a heavy-headed rose Beneath a trellis, or in a trilby-hat
(Faintly disturbing, that, in several ways) -- From every side you strike at my control, Not least through those these disquieting chaps who loll At ease about your earlier days: Not quite your class, I'd say, dear, on the whole.
But o, photography! as no art is, Faithful and disappointing! that records Dull days as dull, and hold-it smiles as frauds, And will not censor blemishes Like washing-lines, and Hall's-Distemper boards,
But shows a cat as disinclined, and shades A chin as doubled when it is, what grace Your candour thus confers upon her face! How overwhelmingly persuades That this is a real girl in a real place,
In every sense empirically true! Or is it just the past? Those flowers, that gate, These misty parks and motors, lacerate Simply by being you; you Contract my heart by looking out of date.
Yes, true; but in the end, surely, we cry Not only at exclusion, but because It leaves us free to cry. We know what was Won't call on us to justify Our grief, however hard we yowl across
The gap from eye to page. So I am left To mourn (without a chance of consequence) You, balanced on a bike against a fence; To wonder if you'd spot the theft Of this one of you bathing; to condense,
In short, a past that no one now can share, No matter whose your future; calm and dry, It holds you like a heaven, and you lie Unvariably lovely there, Smaller and clearer as the years go by.
Larkin was proud of this poem, which he privately attributed to Winifred Arnott, whom he once addressed in a letter as "Delicious Winifred". They met when Larkin moved to Belfast. Whatever she may have regarded his attentions, which as always were somewhat less than platonic, it didn't prevent her from marrying someone else - two someone elses eventually.
Larkin also wrote an uncollected poem for her, "Long roots moor summer" on her wedding day. It spoke of natural imperatives that we sometimes obey, in our manner. Though Larkin knew he couldn't.
the poet's rapidely moving eyes hungrily look at one picture of winifred after another each picture showing her in a different pose. poet exposed the love very interesting
my granny is under the name of winifred arnott and she is the one who philip larkin was in deep friendship my granny used to know him very well and i am a slight bit disapointed that she has not a proper mention i have only recently discoverd the fact that she ( winifred arnott) was philip larkin s friend and will continue to study this fact by the way i am only nine years old
Jag
This poem is descriptive poem
Less deceived
the poem is really awesome.. how the poet has explained the beauty of the girl through the words was creating a real picture in our eyes to look into the album too.. :)