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This poem is taken from PN Review 36, Volume 10 Number 4, March - April 1984.

The Beach Peter Scupham
And Langland told how heaven could not keep love;
It overflowed that room, took flesh, became
Light as a linden-leaf, sharp as a needle.

Today, the stone pavilion throws a window
Into the morning, that great strength of silver
Shawled from the climbing sun, and on four children
Alive to rippled beach and rippled water
Swaying their metalled lights in amity.

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