26 DECEMBER 1958, Page 18

Pennines in April

If this county were a sea (that is solid rock Deeper than any sea) these hills heaving

Out of the east, mass behind mass, at this height Hoisting heather and stones to the sky Must burst upwards and topple into Lancashire.

Perhaps, as the earth turns, such ground-stresses Do come rolling westward through the locked land.

Now, measuring the miles of silence Your eye takes the strain : through Landscapes gliding blue as water Those barrellings of strength are heaving slowly and heave To your feet and surf upwards In a still, fiery air, hauling the imagination, Carrying the larks upward. TED HUGHES