Laurie Lee

On eves of cold, when slow coal fires,
rooted in basements, burn and branch,
brushing with smoke the city air;
When quartered moons pale in the sky

Tonight the wind
With teeth of glass,
The jackdaw
In caged branches of iron,

Tonight the wind gnaws with teeth of
The jackdaw shivers in caged branches of
The stars have
There is hunger in the mouth of vole and

The girl's far treble, muted to the heat,
calls like a fainting bird across the fieldsto where her flock lies panting for her voice,
their black horns buried deep in marigolds.
They climb awake, like drowsy butterflies

Far-fetched with tales of other worlds and ways,
My skin well-oiled with wines of the Levant,
I set my face into a filial smile To greet the pale, domestic kiss of Kent. But shall I never learn? That gawky girl,
Recalled so primly…