Woundwort

The engraving in this video is from The Graphic, August 18, 1875. It is by F. Morris, and is entitled 'The Mowers'.

 

WOUNDWORT

 

A clownish answer he gave, when I,

A man of letters, offered aid:

“I can ‘eal it better mesel’.”

 

The grass was flush with his gush of blood

And flecks of it dripped from docks

And plantains. A red runnel ran down

The scythe blade, which cleaved the air

Where he had dropped it. His leg

Was open to the shin, and within

I glimpsed a gleam of tibia, white

Before the blood engulfed it.

 

He shrugged me off, and dragged

Himself to the hedge, where woundworts

Spired their flowers – a signature

In clotted gore – ripped

The stinking leaves with a quaking hand,

Restrained his stertorous breath,

And crammed them into the gash.

 

The burnt rubber taint of the herb

Mingled with the rusty smell of blood

As the wound lips sandwiched its leaves.

 

Forty days, it should have taken,

Balsam-poulticed, for such a wound

To heal; he hobbled out each day

To work his field, the gash

Sealed with hog’s grease and herb,

And was whole within a week.

 

A clownish answer he gave, and I,

A man of letters, use it yet:

Clown’s Woundwort – All Heal to the wise.

 

Source material: Marcus Woodward (Ed.), Gerard’s Herbal: John Gerard’s Historie of Plants, (1597), Middlesex, 1998, pp. 238-240. Adapted from Gerard’s account of how he “discovered” the healing qualities of this herb. “Clownish” is not quite as insulting as it seems; a “clown” in the sixteenth century was a country labourer, not necessarily a fool. John Clare’s use of the word to describe himself in the nineteenth century was tinged with self-irony, but was in no way intended to suggest foolishness. The comparison of the smell of the crushed herb to “burnt rubber” is an anachronism in the context of Gerard’s writing, since rubber was not known in Europe until the mid eighteenth century, but on the basis of my own experience, I can think of no more apt comparison. Woundwort used to be eaten as a vegetable, which suggests perhaps that people did not find its smell so repellent as we do today. Could this be, perhaps, because we automatically associate its odour - which is perhaps quite inoffensive in itself - with the smell of burning tyres: a comparison which a person of Gerard’s time could not possibly have made? Poem by Giles Watson, 2009; reading recorded 13th June, 2010.

 

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Uploaded on June 13, 2010
Taken on June 13, 2010