This poem is taken from PN Review 36, Volume 10 Number 4, March - April 1984.
The House
It was the house of childhood, the house of the dark wood,
four-square and safe, it was the second house
at least, to bear its name. The first was burnt: was charred
foundations, hidden by a timber yard.
I knew this in my dream: the house was same
and solid. All its yews, church trees, were strong
red wood of generations. As we came
out in the dusk sight heaved, house, orchard, gone.
...
four-square and safe, it was the second house
at least, to bear its name. The first was burnt: was charred
foundations, hidden by a timber yard.
I knew this in my dream: the house was same
and solid. All its yews, church trees, were strong
red wood of generations. As we came
out in the dusk sight heaved, house, orchard, gone.
...
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