Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Tim Parksin conversation with Natalia Ginzburg
(PN Review 49)
Next Issue Gwyneth Lewis ‘Spiderings’ Ian Thomson ‘Fires were started: Tallinn, 1944’ Adrian May ‘Traditionalism and Tradition’ Judith Herzberg ‘Poems’ translated by Margitt Helbert Horatio Morpurgo ‘What is a Book?’
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
Reader Survey
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 138, Volume 27 Number 4, March - April 2001.

Fin de Siècle Andrew Waterman

The heavens fall, deluging darkened garden,
Spattering off laurel leaves; indoors
Rolled on the hearthrug, my new conkers glisten;
Over the mantel, deep in Alpine flowers
Forever, Herta Zuckermann, 13;
And, dishes washed and dried,
Mum switches on the radiogram. I listen
To piano quibbling against descending
Rain's orchestrations, sudden
Drumbursts on a pane,
Arpeggios dropping from a leaky gutter.
Rain falls in lamplit puddles, on bombed gaps
Among the houses, clogged with weeds and litter,
And shivering down through foliage drips
From horse-chestnuts where this afternoon we shied
Sticks at soft-spiked burrs that split on landing,

Searching, please wait... animated waiting image