The fens

The fens

Two verse poem.

1944-10-18

One page typewritten document

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[underlined]THE FENS[/underlined]

We are not lost; beyond no far recall,
Who have loved the singing of the night
And won it surely; strongly held
Its quiet splendour to our hearts and deep,
Laughing its greatness to each conquered star;
Nor lonely to the sibilance of the wind
Across the paths of dark; but free
And lighter than a breeze on silent hills,
Than mist on meadows ………
From afar,
Lovely and great as ever, still we find
Constant to each, high sanctuary
In the supernal ways of love, and undispelled,
A beauty stronger than death that fills
The night with peace. Your hands creep
About my head and hold me. An infinite
Calm, a dreamless quietness lies over all.

18 Oct 44
Tuddenham