A poem for a well known painting
Aye, clearly there’s a story here,
A story here,
Less tranquil than it might appear
Beneath that darkening sky:
The haywain stalls, the lad says naught
But points towards a lass distraught
Upon the bank: a moment fraught
With more than meets the eye.
Midstream the master, roughly clad,
Aye, roughly clad,
Stands staring at the pointing lad,
The horse waits, wain in tow;
A dog looks on. What came before,
Or afterwards might lie in store
For master, lad or lass is more
Than we shall ever know.
(Constable ‘The Hay Wain)
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