I brought you to Devon. I brought you into my dreamland.

I sleepwalked you

Into my land of totems. Never-never land:

The orchard in the West.

                                              I wrestled

With the blankets, the caul and the cord,

And you stayed with me

Gallant and desperate and hopeful,

Listening for different gods, stripping off

Your American royalty, garment by garment –

Till you stepped out soul-naked and stricken

Into this cobbled, pictureless corridor

Aimed at a graveyard.

                                          What had happened

To the Italian sun?

Had it escaped our snatch

Like a butterfly off a nettle? The flashing trajectory,

The trans-continental dream-express

Of your adolescence – had it

Slammed to a dead-end, crushing halt, fatal,

In this red-soil tunnel? Was this why

We could not wake – our fingers tearing numbly

At the mesh of nettle-roots.

                                                   What wrong fork

Had we taken? In a gloom orchard

Under drumming thatch, we lay listening

To our vicarage rotting like a coffin,

Foundering under its weeds. What did you make of it

When you sat at your elm table alone

Staring at the blank sheet of white paper,

Silent at your typewriter, listening

To the leaking thatch drip, the murmur of rain,

And staring at that sunken church, and the black

Slate roofs in the mist of rain, low tide,

Gleaming awash.

                                This was Lyonnesse.

Inaccessible clouds, submarine trees.

The labyrinth

Of brambly burrow lanes. Bundled women –

Stump-warts, you called them –

Sniffing at your strangeness in wet shops.

Their eyes followed you everywhere, loamy badgers,

Dug you out of your sleep and pawed at your dreams,

Jabbered hedge-bank judgements, a dark-age dialect,

Peered from every burrow-mouth.

                                                              The world

Came to an end at bullocks

Huddled behind gates, knee-deep in quag,

Under the huddled, rainy hills. A bellow

Shaking the soaked oak-woods tested the limits.

And, beside the boots, the throbbing gutter –

A thin squandering of blood-water –

Searched for the river and the sea.

And this was what we had chosen finally.

Remembering it, I see it all in a bubble:

Strange people, in a closed brilliance,

Laughing and crying soundlessly,

Gazing out of the transparency

At a desolation. A rainy wedding picture

On a foreign grave, among lilies –

And just beneath it, unseen, the real bones

Still undergoing everything.