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Prolegomena to any further discussion of mulberry
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Apr 23 15:10 UTC 1992 |
Mulberry Street begins on a sunny little plateau on the way up from
the Connecticut River valley, and proceeds uphill in a straight
line until it veers left to make way for the cemetery. The
cemetery is the original one, where the Pynchons and the Chapins
are all buried. Many of the gravestones there date back to the
1630s.
Across Maple Street from the entrance to Mulberry Street is a
medical center. The whole area has a spacious open feel to it, and
is much travelled nowadays. But once upon a time, before disease
took them all, there were elm trees there, big graceful trees whose
upper branches made an arched canopy many storeys above the street.
Under that canopy of elms in the summertime was a fragrant twilit
silence, broken only by an occasional birdsong or by the scuttling
of daredevil squirrels (the pale-gray New England variety) chasing
each other from branch to branch high above.
A couple of blocks down Maple was State Street and the massive
buildings of the Springfield Public Library. The poetry section
was in the main building. Turn left at the bust of Andrew
Carnegie. Through the spacious entrance to the west wing. Third,
fourth and fifth aisles on the right. Wonderland.
On a rainy spring day on Mulberry Street everything was the color
of new lilacs. One could see them out the bay window thrashing
densely in the wind and rain, a mobile mass of leaves and blossoms
along the narrow walk next to the impossibly narrow drive.
(Imagine parking the Aerostar there!) Inside, the house smelled of
tea and spice cookies as one's mother entertained old Mrs. Geisel,
who lived up the hill and liked to walk down it in the rain
clutching her black umbrella. What were they talking about? Mrs.
Geisel's cat was a favorite topic. Perhaps the weather, or the
lilacs? Nothing earnest or permanent, in any case, at least not to
them.
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keats
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response 1 of 3:
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Apr 24 16:16 UTC 1992 |
all the long way to school
and all the way back,
i've looked and i've looked
and i've kept careful track.
but all that i've noticed,
except my own feet,
was a horse and a wagon
on mulberry street.
that's nothing to tell of,
that won't do, of course...
just a broken-down wagon
that's drawn by a horse.
that _can't_ be my story. that's only a _start_.
i'll say that a ZEBRA was pulling that cart!
and that is a story that no one can beat,
when i say that i saw it on mulberry street.
yes, the zebra is fine,
but i think it's a shame,
such a marvelous beast
with a cart that's so tame.
the story would really be better to hear
if the driver i saw were a charioteer.
a gold and blue chariot's _something_ to meet,
rumbling like thunder down mulberry street!
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abchan
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response 2 of 3:
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Nov 27 01:59 UTC 1994 |
I lived on a Mulberry Street once, but it was in New York City, not in
Conneticut. It was a narrow street, with not enough parking, well, not
enough legal parking, that is... *grin*
it was one-way, and had lots of restaurants and other local haunts on
it... my grandparents used to take me on walks all over town, and it
seemed like half of the time we were on Mulberry Street, because it's
such a long street.
No horses, wagons, or zebras on this street though, I guess I'm too
young to have seen those days.
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