This poem is taken from PN Review 36, Volume 10 Number 4, March - April 1984.

Bunhill Fields

Andrew Waterman
Crammed, blackening, subsiding, warped,
some weathered past deciphering,
dissenters' gravestones; railed off from
what's smoothed to lawn and flowerbeds,

where pensioners put out to grass
and girls with limpid eyes and prams
sun through the weekday afternoon,
as Milton, blind nearby, once did.
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