… a peck of poems …
When the BBC marked the 100th anniversary of Norman Nicholson‘s birth in January 2014 with a radio programme, their press release described him as “the unique and unjustly overlooked Cumbrian” and I guess the short radio documentary may have helped to raise his profile a little – though calling the programme “Provincial Pleasures” was, I feel, damning the man with faint praise.
Norman was championed by TS Eliot, Ted Hughes and Seamus Heaney though he remains little known because he chose to stay in the little town of Millom, Cumbria, on the western edges of the Lake District rather than move south to London.
Norman wrote a lovely meditative poem about his craft and about his middle name (which was also his mother’s maiden name) “Cornthwaite”. It comes from the Olde English “cweorn” meaning corn, and the Norse Viking “tveit” meaning a meadow or clearing.
“… I lop, / Chop and bill-hook at thickets and rankness of speech, / Straining to let light in, make space for a word, / To hack out once again my inherited thwaite / And sow my peck of poems, not much of a crop.”*
Norman Cornthwaite Nicholson, 8 January 1914 – 30 May 1987.
To learn more about him, you can visit the Norman Nicholson Society‘s website. The link is here.
*This poem was first published in his collection, Sea to the West, Faber & Faber, 1981 and can be found in Collected Poems, Faber & Faber, 1994, pp.354 © The Trustees of the Estate of Norman Nicholson, by permission of David Higham Associates Limited