PICKINGS
Poetry from NHI publications
BASIL'S LAND |
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The gentle Northern tongue travel took not from me, the Scots would not look on, Southrons would sing wrong, I heard in tree and dale, beck and fell, but only one who used the sound well where Yorkshire is south, Stainmore the backbone, opened his mouth, made notes drip from stone where high on the fell a windswept tree looked out, saw the scars of the sea, forces, an estuary, in his own land only Northern mid-light, a vocabulary of vision, solitude, delight. |
SALLY EVANS |
from Briggflatts Visited ISBN 0 903610 17 5 Next poem Previous poem |
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Artwork by Eleanor Makepeace email the author visit the website of Sally Evans read a poem by the author on the Zimmerzine Archive read a review of a book by the author Web design by Gerald England This page last updated: 14th November 2006. |