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Kathleen Raine Biography

Kathleen Jessie Raine CBE (14 June 1908 – 6 July 2003) was a British poet, critic and scholar, writing in particular on William Blake, W. B. Yeats and Thomas Taylor. Known for her interest in various forms of spirituality, most prominently Platonism and Neoplatonism, she was a founding member of the Temenos Academy.

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Kathleen Raine Quotes

Nature is the common, universal language, understood by all.

Common, Language, Understood

O never harm the dreaming world, the world of green, the world of leaves, but let its million palms unfold the adoration of the trees It is a love in darkness wrought obedient to the unseen sun, longer than memory, a thought deeper than the graves of time. The turning spindles of the cells weave a slow forest over space, the dance of love, creation, out of time moves not a leaf, and out of summer, not a shade.

Dream, Graves, Green, Memories, Summer

And see the peaceful trees extend their myriad leaves in leisured dance- they bear the weight of sky and cloud upon the fountain of their veins.

Clouds, Leaves, Myriad, See, Sky, Tree

I couldn't claim that I have never felt the urge to explore evil, but when you descend into hell you have to be very careful.

Decision, Descend, Evil, Hell, Urge

Of all created things the source is one, Simple, single as love; remember The cell and seed of life, the sphere That is, of child, white bird, and small blue dragon-fly Green fern, and the gold four-petalled tormentilla The ultimate memory. Each latent cell puts out a future, Unfolds its differing complexity As a tree puts forth leaves, and spins a fate Fern-traced, bird feathered, or fish-scaled.

Bird, Children, Leaves, Life, Memories, Things

As a child I became a confirmed believer in the ancient gods simply because as between the reality of fact and the reality f myth, I chose myth. . . Myth is the truth of fact, not fact the truth of myth.

Became, Believer, Children, Facts, Gods, Reality

Meanings, moods, the whole scale of our inner experience, finds in nature the 'correspondences' through which we may know our boundless selves.

Know, May, Mood, Scale, Self, Selves

Intent on one great love, perfect, Requited and for ever, I missed love's everywhere Small presence, thousand-guised.

Great Love, Intent, Missed, Perfect, Thousand

I make no apology for writing in nature's age-old and unaging language, of whose images we build our paradises, Broceliande and Brindavan, the Forest of Arden, Xanadu, Shelley's Skies, or even Wordsworth's Grasemere, which can be found on no map.

Apology, Brindavan, Found, Sky, Unaging, Writing

Academia is a graveyard of poets.

Academia, Graveyard, Poet, Poets

Sensing us, the trees tremble in their sleep, The living leaves recoil before our fires, Baring to us war-charred and broken branches, And seeing theirs, we for our own destruction weep.

Destruction, Fire, Seeing, Sleep, Trees, War

. . . the poem reminds us of what we ourselves know, but did not know we knew; reminds us, above all, of what we are.

Know, Knows, Poem, Reminds

The air is full of a farewell- deserted by the silver lake lies the wild world, overturned. Cities rise where the mountains fell, the furnace where the phoenix burned

Deserted, Farewell, Lakes, Lying, World