Mid-August
By Duncan Campbell Scott
From the upland hidden,
Where the hill is sunny
Tawny like pure honey
In the August heat,
Memories float unbidden
Where the thicket serries
Fragrant with ripe berries
And the milk-weed sweet.
Like a prayer-mat holy
Are the patterned mosses
Which the twin-flower crosses
With her flowerless vine;
In fragile melancholy
The pallid ghost flowers hover
As if to guard and cover
The shadow of a shrine.
Where the pine-linnet lingered
The pale water searches,
The roots of gleaming birches
Draw silver from the lake;
The ripples, liquid-fingered,
Plucking the root-layers,
Fairy like lute players
Lulling music make.
O to lie here brooding
Where the pine-tree column
Rises dark and solemn
To the airy lair,
Where, the day eluding,
Night is couched dream laden,
Like a deep witch-maiden
Hidden in her hair.
In filmy evanescence
Wraithlike scents assemble,
Then dissolve and tremble
A little until they die;
Spirits of the florescence
Where the bees searched and tarried
Till the blossoms all were married
In the days before July.
Light has lost its splendour,
Light refined and sifted,
Cool light and dream drifted
Ventures even where,
(Seeping silver tender)
In the dim recesses,
Trembling mid her tresses,
Hides the maiden hair.
Covered with the shy-light,
Filling in the hushes,
Slide the tawny thrushes
Calling to their broods,
Hoarding till the twilight
The song that made for noon-days
Of the amorous June days
Preludes and interludes.
The joy that I am feeling
Is there something in it
Unlike the warble the linnet
Phrases and intones?
Or is a like thought stealing
With a rapture fine, free
Through the happy pine tree
Ripening her cones?
In some high existence
In another planet
Where their poets cannot
Know our birds and flowers,
Does the same persistence
Give the dreams they issue
Something like the tissue
Of these dreams of ours?
O to lie athinking —
Moods and whims! I fancy
Only necromancy
Could the web unroll,
Only somehow linking
Beauties that meet and mingle
In this quiet dingle
With the beauty of the whole.
Poem Analysis:
Duncan Campbell Scott’s “Mid-August” is a lush, sensory-rich meditation on nature, memory, and the metaphysical connections between inner emotion and the external world. Written in highly lyrical language, the poem captures a fleeting, golden moment at the height of summer’s maturity, where the physical landscape becomes a gateway to deeper philosophical reflection.
Scott, one of the Confederation Poets of Canada, is renowned for his detailed natural imagery and introspective tone. In “Mid-August”, he blends these qualities masterfully, producing a poem that is both a celebration of nature’s intricacies and a contemplative inquiry into the nature of beauty and being.
1. Nature in Late Summer
From the outset, Scott places us in mid-August, a time of ripeness and slow transformation. The landscape is warm, fragrant, and abundant:
“Where the hill is sunny / Tawny like pure honey / In the August heat,”
This opening stanza sets the tone: golden hues, rich textures, and intense sensory presence. Scott doesn’t present a generic landscape — he brings it to life with specific, tangible details: milkweed, ripening berries, patterned mosses, ghost flowers, and birch roots. Every element has been carefully observed, contributing to a setting that feels both real and enchanted.
There is a clear sense that nature is at its peak, yet also teetering on the edge of change. This tension between fullness and decline adds a layer of melancholy to the lushness — a hallmark of late summer poetry.
2. The Sacredness of Nature
Scott elevates the natural landscape to sacred status, drawing religious imagery to suggest its spiritual dimension:
“Like a prayer-mat holy / Are the patterned mosses…”“As if to guard and cover / The shadow of a shrine.”
Here, the forest floor becomes a site of reverence. The language implies that nature is not merely beautiful, but sacrosanct — something to be honored and approached with humility. The ghost flowers, pale and ethereal, become guardians of mystery, reinforcing the idea that the woods conceal not just physical life, but spiritual truths.
Scott’s treatment of the natural world borders on pantheism, suggesting a divine presence or energy permeating every leaf, scent, and shadow.
3. Music, Memory, and the Passage of Time
Music and memory intertwine throughout the poem. The natural world is animated not only by sights and scents, but also by sound:
“The ripples, liquid-fingered… Fairy like lute players / Lulling music make.”
“Slide the tawny thrushes / Calling to their broods,”
Scott likens the wind and water to musicians, suggesting that nature has its own symphony. Yet, this music is seasonal and transient — the thrushes are now hoarding their songs, once meant for the passionate days of June. The imagery reminds us that moments pass, and summer’s full voice is giving way to softer refrains.
The poem is permeated by a nostalgic tone. August is portrayed not only as a current experience, but as a memory forming in real time — each image, sound, and scent becoming part of the narrator’s emotional and imaginative archive.
4. Human Emotion and Cosmic Connection
As the poem progresses, Scott moves from external description to inward inquiry:
“The joy that I am feeling / Is there something in it / Unlike the warble the linnet / Phrases and intones?”
This pivotal stanza questions whether human emotion is unique, or simply an echo of the natural world’s rhythms. He wonders if his joy is separate from or symbiotic with the bird’s song — raising questions about the relationship between inner life and outer world.
Scott then extends this idea into the cosmic realm:
“In some high existence / In another planet / Where their poets cannot / Know our birds and flowers…”
He imagines other beings, other worlds, and other poets — and questions whether they too experience something akin to this fusion of memory, place, and beauty. This metaphysical speculation broadens the scope of the poem dramatically, moving it beyond a nature lyric into philosophical territory. It becomes a meditation on universal beauty, and the shared nature of aesthetic experience across existence.
5. Unity and Mystery
In the final stanza, Scott resigns himself to mystery:
“Only necromancy / Could the web unroll…”“Beauties that meet and mingle / In this quiet dingle / With the beauty of the whole.”
Here, he suggests that only magic or deep spiritual insight could reveal how these fleeting beauties connect to a larger truth. The “web” — possibly of meaning, memory, or universal order — is too complex to unravel through logic alone. It must be felt, not dissected.
Nature is not just background here; it is a mirror and metaphor for the poet’s emotional and intellectual life. The secluded dingle (a wooded valley) becomes both a literal setting and a symbol for the quiet recesses of the mind where thought and feeling entwine.
Stylistic and Literary Devices
- Imagery: Vivid, multisensory images dominate: “filmy evanescence,” “tawny like pure honey,” “pale water searches.” Scott creates not just visuals, but a full-bodied atmosphere.
- Alliteration and Assonance: These musical devices give the poem a rich lyrical flow — “milk-weed sweet,” “pallid ghost flowers,” “slide the tawny thrushes.”
- Personification: Nature is alive, feeling, acting: ripples pluck, thrushes call, light ventures.
- Symbolism: Elements like the maiden hair, ghost flowers, and silver birch act as symbolic gateways to deeper emotional and spiritual realities.
- Tone: Reflective, reverent, wistful — blending joy, loss, and metaphysical curiosity.
A Poetic Meditation on Nature, Time, and Transcendence
“Mid-August” is a rich, layered poem that captures the essence of late summer and uses it as a portal to explore memory, emotion, and existential wonder. Through exquisite natural imagery and lyrical phrasing, Duncan Campbell Scott guides readers from the sensory world to the spiritual and philosophical — from the rustling birches to distant planets.
Ultimately, the poem does not offer answers. Instead, it invites us to pause and feel, to lie “athinking” among the trees, and to accept that the deepest truths — like the fleeting scents of summer — shimmer just out of reach, yet are no less real for it.