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Elizabeth Jennings
1926 - 2001
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A Chorus
Over the surging tides and the mountain kingdoms, / Over the pastoral valleys and the meadows, / Over the cities with their factory darkness,
A Performance Of Henry V At Stratford-Upon-Avon
Nature teaches us our tongue again / And the swift sentences came pat. I came / Into cool night rescued from rainy dawn.
Absence
I visited the place where we last met. / Nothing was changed, the gardens were well-tended, / The fountains sprayed their usual steady jet;
Accepted
You are no longer young, / Nor are you very old. / There are homes where those belong.
Answers
I keep my answers small and keep them near; / Big questions bruised my mind but still I let / Small answers be a bulwark to my fear.
Delay
The radiance of the star that leans on me / Was shining years ago. The light that now / Glitters up there my eyes may never see,
Friday
We nailed the hands long ago, / Wove the thorns, took up the scourge and shouted / For excitement's sake, we stood at the dusty edge
In A Garden
When the gardener has gone this garden / Looks wistful and seems waiting an event. / It is so spruce, a metaphor of Eden
In Memory Of Anyone Unknown To Me
At this particular time I have no one / Particular person to grieve for, though there must / Be many, many unknown ones going to dust
One Flesh
Lying apart now, each in a separate bed, / He with a book, keeping the light on late, / She like a girl dreaming of childhood,
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