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This poem is taken from PN Review 29, Volume 9 Number 3, January - February 1983.

Two Poems David Mason

Three years ago my dubious job
meant leaving the garden daubed with mud
to drive my boss to her Chatterbox Club,
where, with luck invited in, I would
hear book reviews, eat and drink
with elder ladies who paid the check.
I heard you read your poems, and think
America's best is Anthony Hecht.

Last year in Greece my neighbors were
the travellers, Joan and Paddy Leigh Fermor.
I mailed your latest book and they replied
they thought such mastered poetry had died,
leaving them fossils of a more formal age.
I hear they doted on your every page
and toasted you in snow-bound Rochester;
to that effect, I am our courier.
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