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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 14, Volume 6 Number 6, July - August 1980.

from 'Epistularium' Patrick Creagh


A long time since I stood and stared,
But just this morning
Way down the Val di Pesa, and beyond
The city lying low,
A paragon of white peaks, wondrous Appenines.

I saw Olympus there, holy Parnassus,
Places remote from men, a light
Clear as Apollo's eye; and then
Friezes of love and war, the white
Hearts of hills rebuked and taught to rise,
The wrack of columns, capitals:
I think one time they touched the skies.

I forgot the road over the birdless moor
Where the days whisper together to our ruin
And the soul longs for mortality.


A man is coming towards, he is in the distance

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