This poem is taken from PN Review 38, Volume 10 Number 6, May - June 1984.
On Farthing DownsThrough seas of grass you run
ecstatic at what's given;
light-soused blue above
what you might think the glens
last week at Cushendun,
but is, an airflight thence,
Coulsdon downland's curve
fitting a Surrey heaven.
I compose you in a frame
of background still the same
as I grew up with: Sunday
walks, then from the school
I got translated to
friends living hereabouts.
I asked, invited one day
to tea and scones, 'So that's
...
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