This poem is taken from PN Review 38, Volume 10 Number 6, May - June 1984.
PoemsNEAR COLTISHALL
Dark on the evening sky
(Though one gleams coldly bright
Caught by the sun's last light)
The thunderous aircraft fly
Into their deepening night:
Distracted from my page
I watch each passing plane -
The virtue of Montaigne
Is innocent to gauge
The wrath that they contain.
O privacy, retreat!
What fastness is secure
From that pervasive roar,
Who shall escape defeat
From what we dream of war?
...
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