Beneath the golden balm
 Settling on the fields
 Evening steals in calm
 And farmers count their yields
 The bee is in the lavender,
 The honey fills the comb,
 But here a rain falls never-ending
 And I am far from home.

Note: From the novel “Kushiel’s Dart”

I don’t know whether this poem counts, as it’s a far cry from recognized poetry – but it’s worth suggesting, at very least, as the images are dead on, vivid without calling attention to themselves, and it’s a beautiful portrayal of a less-than-beautful kind of sadness. It’s in fact out of a fantasy novel series (which while being exceptionally well-written and highly entertaining is not “good literature”).

Martin adds

I’ve always liked quietly atmospheric “still” poems like today’s - the imagery comes across very nicely, and while I can see it working well in a fantasy novel, the fact is irrelevant to its appreciation.

And as for the comment on the series - well, there’s all the difference between good literature and “Good Literature”, and I’m far more a fan of the former than the latter. And it’s always nice to see fantasy with good poetry - there’s way too much of the other kind around. I’ve put it on my ‘to read’ list.

Links

Jacqueline Carey’s homepage:
http://www.jacquelinecarey.com/

Biography

http://www.jacquelinecarey.com/bio.html