A poem entitled ‘The Picnic’
Yes, I remember Adders Drop –
The place, because one bitter day
Wrapped up in overcoats we picnicked there
Unwillingly. It was late May.
The ground oozed. Someone cleared a space.
No one settled and no one sat
On the sodden grass. What I saw
Was Adders Drop – and a cow pat.
And nettle, thistle, thorn and vetch,
And beetle, bug and hoverfly,
No whit less foul and troublesome
Than the grey nimbus in the sky.
And for that hour relentless rain
Poured down, and round that wilderness,
Heavier and heavier, all the weight
Of hopelessness and haplessness.
Comentarios