Geoffrey Hill, from The Triumph of Love (via Bryan Appleyard)
“
But leave it now, leave it; as you lefta washed-out day at Stourport or the Lickey,
improvised rainhats mulch for papier-mache,
and the chips floating.
Leave it now, leave it; give it over
to that all-gathering general English light,
in which each separate bead
of drizzle at its own thorn-tip stands
as revelation.
”
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