21 JULY 1967, Page 15

Transfigurations

ELIZABETH JENNINGS

The words will have to come without much ease. Difficulty of tongue, an aching hand. Sometimes they will not come, I know, Merely belong to birds and far-off seas. I shall be silent, standing on the cliff.

And gulls will come and seem like symbols then. I must know they are no such thing, I must Thrust them to their rock-edge once again And hear the sea uninterrupted coming White, without words and meaning messages.

And I must learn a kind of Morse, a signal, Think of long strings being plucked, of the wheel turning, Bringing the pot to life. I shall need my fingers But still must heed my older messages, Hush for the silence in between the trees.

One word, perhaps, will come after this silence, After this stillness. I must cherish it

And think how all the sweeping of the gulls, The,sea, the cliff-top moved towards this end And learn also how stars possess a pulse.