Winter Landscape
Tyre spiky distance was the town ; spires, Factories, gasworks, shrunken in the telescope of blue. - If there was any sound Across that giant nerveless palm of ground —Work from the rail—its action was long done, And it came limping late on lame feet Past the tiny horses among the steel floods.
Brush over the sky with endless weeping clouds Ascending towards us from those thorns ; the town.
Near the bridge an aeroplane was perched.
I saw the pilot square in his padded coat Smoking, chatting to friends.
He mounted, waved to the three waving friends ; Turned the plane, jolting, on to even ground : Then she ran up wind with an excitement of engines, Poised her bird's tail, was in air now, sweeped about As a sower throws, a wakes stretches, and Strong up some sky-scent followed, glad as a hound.
BERNARD SPENCER.
Previous page
