What had he to say to her now? Where was the woman he believed he had known In a street, out walking, by the sea, In bed, working, dancing, loving the sun
And saying so, always for the first time?
Who was this stranger with the graven face? What led to the dreaming-up of a home? And what was he, at sixty? Who was
That man lifting the blackthorn stick With the knobbed top from its place At the side of the fire, quietly dying?
He listened to his own steps in the walk Past the reedy mud where plover rose And scattered, black fragments, crying.
[10] [5]
GLOSSARY GLOSSARY
[6] graven: carved, sculpted; serious, sad
[9] blackthorn stick: walking stick made from blackthorn (sloe), a strong wood that is usually heavily knobbled
[13] plover: small wading bird, normally found near water
