Emotion recollected in tranquillity

don't do it for me:

see the river Brent courses,

and see the people flow,

all kinds and conditions

in rain and sun and snow.

 

You might know

the greenman in kingsbury,

who abhors the national front,

wanders in kew gardens

and sometimes has a punt.

 

There's westminster traitors

brixton dreadlocks edged with hats

disp...

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Never-ever

ever again

will he turn

his baby face

towards my voice

as he did,

those hours

before

he died.

 

O! his blue-blue eyes,

that long ago

land

of lost content:

my son and I,

'neath a darkening sky.

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  Quietly, she spoke of tea, toast, the after smell of cigars,
Let us say we met in a room: curtained, peeling, private.
Briefly she consulted the winter afternoon,
Reviewed the deadening, leadening sky.

It was discreetly done.
No presences danced beyond no lifted curtains.
Darkness had silted us away.

Words, ...

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Low-slung August sun shadows stonework into the
deeper shadow lands —
phantoms adrift on the wide Sargasso sea —
so unruffled, these lawns,
and all this frumpery.

So much then has time
and its opposite
done for me.

It was along these lines we walked, it was beneath these swaying poplars we kissed;
an...

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