PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Kei Millerthe Fat Black Woman
In Praise of the Fat Black Woman & Volume

(PN Review 241)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Next Issue Jen Schmitt on Ekphrasis Rachel Hadas on Text and Pandemic Kirsty Gunn Essaying two Jee Leong Koh Palinodes in the Voice of my Dead Father Maureen Mclane Correspondent Breeze
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
Monthly Carcanet Books
PN Review Blog

This poem is taken from PN Review 37, Volume 10 Number 5, March - April 1984.

Poems Peter Scupham

ELDORADO
(Remembering Francis Norman, Bookseller)

And so, no Saturday door to be angled through
     And find you again,
Puzzling about our latter-day quids and quidnuncs,
     Your Proust, Montaigne,
While Heath Street under a patchy cloudscape suffers
     A water-stain,

Or shuffling in, your keep-net a Sotheby's bag,
     (The catch indifferent today),
With quiz and chaffer and chat, with news of the ones
     That got away.
They settle to lighter dust on my patchwork shelves,
     Your Dryden, Gray.

A Professorial Chair, the spoils of Time
     Brown at your feet,
Babel: her grammars and guides in curling vellum,
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image