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Published in History & Culture, Literature & Language, Poetry Analysis

on

Published in History & Culture, Literature & Language, Poetry Analysis

on

Judith Wright: “We Are Hungry For More”

Philosophical, Psychological Mind, And Nature Lover Judith Wright. Her Poem Northern River From Her First Book “Moving Image” give us tenderness of love of nature which was also become her successful first poetry publication in 1946

Judith Wright (b.31 May 1915 — d.25 June 2000), the lover of nature, poet from Australia who gave and maintained quality, consistency and distinctiveness in her writings. She had obtained degrees in Philosophy and Psychology. “Moving Image” was first published in 1946, her poetry which got many appreciations.
In her most of the poetry, give a tang of silence, quietness of nature, river, birds and springs etc. From it, we already get a clue that how deep she was in love with nature. Judith had fathomless regard for the environment, and was also one of the founding members of Wildlife Preservation Society of Queensland.

“We Are Hungry For More; If We Do Not Consciously Pursue The More, We Create Less For Ourselves And Make It More Difficult To Experience More In Life”

Judith Wright

Wright later published her short story “The Nature Of Love” She had special attachment to wildlife, environment and aboriginal things. She also had achieved Christopher Brennan Award (The Christopher Brennan Award is an Australian award given for lifetime achievement in poetry) in the year 1976 and Nobel Prize for her literature.
Read her beautiful poem from her first publication for which she also had received numerous recognition.

“Northern River” by Judith Wright

When summer days grow harsh
my thoughts return to my river,
fed by white mountain springs,
beloved of the shy bird, the bell-bird,
whose cry is like falling water.
O knighted with the green vine,
lit with the rock-lilies,
the river speaks in the silence,
and my heart will also be quiet.
Where your valley grows wide in the plains they have felled the trees, wild river.
Your course they have checked, and altered your sweet Alcaic metre.
Not the grey kangaroo, deer-eyed, timorous,
will come to your pools at dawn;
but their tamed and humbled herds will muddy the watering places.
Passing their roads and cities you will not escape unsoiled.
But where, grown old and weary,
stagnant among the mangroves,
you hope no longer — there on a sudden
with a shock like joy, beats up
the cold clean pulse of the tide,
the touch of the sea in greeting; the sea that encompasses all sorrow and all delight and holds the memories of every stream and river.

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