Till Shropshire

The Wrekin (lånat foto)

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.

'Twould blow like this through holt and hanger
When Uricon the city stood:
'Tis the old wind in the old anger,
But then it threshed another wood.

Then, 'twas before my time, the Roman
At yonder heaving hill would stare:
The blood that warms an English yeoman,
The thoughts that hurt him, they were there.

There, like the wind through woods in riot,
Through him the gale of life blew high;
The tree of man was never quiet:
Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I.

The gale, it plies the saplings double,
It blows so hard, 'twill soon be gone:
To-day the Roman and his trouble
Are ashes under Uricon.
Den här dikten av Housman läste jag ofta som tonåring och nog ger den behagliga rysningar fortfarande-.....tankar på tidens flykt "today the Roman and his trouble are ashes under Uricon.....".

I mina händer just nu har jag "The Morville Hours" av Katherine Swift- en något annorlunda trädgårdsbok. Swift bygger upp sin berättelse (om införskaffandet av ett gammalt hus i Shropshire och skapandet av en trädgård där) kring "The Liturgy of the Hours" . Huset ligger inte långt från the Wrekin och Housmans "The Shropshire Lad" är en av Swifts favoritdiktsamlingar.

"What is my story? My father carving my name in the speckled green side of a vegetable marrow so that I could watch the letters stretch and grow as wide as my own four-year-old smile. Violet-blue Michaelmas daisies and basking Tortoiseshell butterflies. Fossils in wrappings of cotton wool. Books on leaning metal shelves. The smell of pipe smoke in a cold room. A type-writer. Blue hyacinths. Iron Age forts and the worn steps of church towers. A dozen clocks chiming the hour for dinner. A black-and-white marble floor. A yellow climbing rose. Clouds passing over the hillside. Each a fragment of memory, a lost moment, a shining and irreducable 'now'.
So come with me now into the garden. It is New Year's Eve. This is here. This is now. Listen."
- och jag stiger in i trädgården denna nyårsafton till ljudet av "Vigils".