Thought for the day
DH Lawrence's Snake read by Richard Wallace
Snake
BY D. H. LAWRENCE
A snake came to my water-trough
On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat,
To drink there.
In the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark carob tree
I came down the steps with my pitcher
And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough
before me.
He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom
And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over
the edge of the stone trough
And rested his throat upon the stone bottom,
And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness,
He sipped with his straight mouth,
Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body,
Silently.
Someone was before me at my water-trough,
And I, like a second-comer, waiting.
He lifted his head from his drinking, as cattle do,
And looked at me vaguely, as drinking cattle do,
And flickered his two-forked tongue from his lips, and mused
a moment,
And stooped and drank a little more,
Being earth-brown, earth-golden from the burning bowels
of the earth
On the day of Sicilian July, with Etna smoking.
The voice of my education said to me
He must be killed,
For in Sicily the black, black snakes are innocent, the gold
are venomous.
And voices in me said, If you were a man
You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off.
But must I confess how I liked him,
How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink
at my water-trough
And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless,
Into the burning bowels of this earth?
Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him?
Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him?
Was it humility, to feel so honoured?
I felt so honoured.
And yet those voices:
If you were not afraid, you would kill him!
And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid,
But even so, honoured still more
That he should seek my hospitality
From out the dark door of the secret earth.
He drank enough
And lifted his head, dreamily, as one who has drunken,
And flickered his tongue like a forked night on the air, so black,
Seeming to lick his lips,
And looked around like a god, unseeing, into the air,
And slowly turned his head,
And slowly, very slowly, as if thrice adream,
Proceeded to draw his slow length curving round
And climb again the broken bank of my wall-face.
And as he put his head into that dreadful hole,
And as he slowly drew up, snake-easing his shoulders,
and entered farther,
A sort of horror, a sort of protest against his withdrawing into
that horrid black hole,
Deliberately going into the blackness, and slowly drawing
himself after,
Overcame me now his back was turned.
I looked round, I put down my pitcher,
I picked up a clumsy log
And threw it at the water-trough with a clatter.
I think it did not hit him,
But suddenly that part of him that was left behind convulsed
in an undignified haste,
Writhed like lightning, and was gone
Into the black hole, the earth-lipped fissure in the wall-front,
At which, in the intense still noon, I stared with fascination.
And immediately I regretted it.
I thought how paltry, how vulgar, what a mean act!
I despised myself and the voices of my accursed human education.
And I thought of the albatross,
And I wished he would come back, my snake.
For he seemed to me again like a king,
Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,
Now due to be crowned again.
And so, I missed my chance with one of the lords
Of life.
And I have something to expiate:
A pettiness.
Taormina
More blog posts
Preached by Canon Dr Stephen Spencer
Preached by Canon Dr Stephen Spencer
Last Sunday marked the end of another choir term—and what a term it has been! We've welcomed new choristers, learnt plenty of exciting music, sung for some wonderful liturgies, and eaten what can only be described as a significant amount of biscuits. The day began with a very special visit from Sing Start! , who joined us for the Eucharist. Together we sang Litany of the Holy Spirit and Joanna Forbes L'Estrange's St Helen's Mass. A huge thank you to Helena from Children's Church for organising ice creams afterwards—a thoroughly appreciated post-service treat! We're also delighted that a large number of Sing Start! children will be joining our regular treble lines from September. This is tremendously exciting, not only for the choir's future growth but also for the long-term strength and sustainability of our music-making at SMR. In the evening, we gathered for a special service celebrating the composer Charles Wood, marking 100 years since his death. It was a fitting tribute to one of the great figures of Anglican church music—but the occasion was also notable for another reason. Several of our own choir members stepped into new musical roles and showcased talents beyond their usual singing duties. Our Head Chorister conducted the introit, one of the back-row singers composed the psalm chant, and our Corner Chorister wrote the organ voluntary. It's wonderful to see so much creativity and musicianship flourishing within the choir. The final service of the year was followed by the all-important choir party: pizza and a screening of Sister Act. Judging by the enthusiastic reaction afterwards, there is now considerable demand for I Will Follow Him to appear in a future service. We make no promises—but do keep an eye on next year's music lists... The choir is now taking a well-earned summer break, but music certainly won't stop at SMR. Sunday morning Masses will continue with a cantor leading the music, and we're looking forward to welcoming several excellent visiting choirs over the coming weeks, including St Andrew's Backwell, St Mary's Ross-on-Wye, and the Handful Chamber Choir. Our regular choir returns on Sunday 13 September, refreshed, recharged, and ready for another exciting year of music. Have a wonderful summer, and thank you to all our choristers, families, volunteers, and supporters for another fantastic year.
Preached by Canon Dr Stephen Spencer
Preached by the Revd Dr Brutus Green
Preached by the Revd Dr Brutus Green
