!DOCTYPE html> html> head lang=”en-US”> title>One Almost Might by A. S. J. Tessimond/title> /div> h1 class=”pageTitle”>One Almost Might/h1> div class=”entry-content clearfix”> h2 class=”author”>by A. S. J. Tessimond/h2> div id=”content”> p>Wouldn’t you say,br /> Wouldn’t you say: one day,br /> With a little more time or a little more patience, one mightbr /> Disentangle for separate, deliberate, slow delightbr /> One of the moment’s hundred strands, unfraybr /> Beginnings from endings, this from that, surveybr /> Say a square inch of the ground one stands on, touchbr /> Part of oneself or a leaf or a sound (not clutchbr /> Or cuff or bruise but touch with finger-tip, ear-br /> Tip, eyetip, creeping near yet not too near);br /> Might take up life and lay it on one’s palmbr /> And, encircling it in closeness, warmth and calm,br /> Let it lie still, then stir smooth-softly, andbr /> Tendril by tendril unfold, there on one’s hand …/p> p>One might examine eternity’s cross-sectionbr /> For a second, with slightly more patience, more time for reflection?/p>/div> p>br /> br> /body> /html>
Arthur Seymour John Tessimond (1902 -1962) was an English poet. He had a tumultuous childhood, ran from boarding school, went to work, somehow attended the University of Liverpool, avoided service in WWI and then discovered that he is unfit for military service after he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which in those days was known as manic depression. A.S. Tessimond is a wonderful poet though maybe somewhat underappreciated poet. He died from in 1962 from a brain haemorrhage.