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Next Issue Peter Scupham at 85: a celebration Contributions by Anne Stevenson, Robert Wells, Peter Davidson, Lawrence Sail

This poem is taken from PN Review 53, Volume 13 Number 3, January - February 1987.

In the Var C.H. Sisson

Yes, it is certain that all is gone
With the winter weather, as on
Mountains snow is replaced by green;
Under the blue sky nothing that was
Recently apparent, remains because
Everywhere the fresh spring is seen.

All that is gone is not lost:
Water into rivers, the frost
Melted to uncover red earth
Sweating and glistening between the vines
Which are cloves in a ham, mathematical signs
Concealing what all is worth.

The dormant branches come too
Into leaf: over all the blue
Sky replaces the travelling grey.
All is not lost because what
Was here yesterday, now is not.
It is death that makes the new day.

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