Four Poems

Gaudier-Brzeska in the Trenches
From his letters

The day's magnificent; the sky brushed clear,
Wind fresher, skylarks singing cheerfully...
Nothing I've yet heard has disturbed that choir -
Not the crude clamour, even, of the shells.

And in the woods at night the nightingales
Sing over us. They solemnly proclaim
Our conduct sacrilege and foolery.
I cannot but respect their high disdain.



A Curse

This is my curse
On the plump slinky slob of a Persian cat
That has moved in next door -
With never a rat
To trouble the neighbourhood. True,
...