9 SEPTEMBER 1972, Page 17

Dark ages

High winds beat the winter grey of Europe Towards a freshening; rain clouds dump Vast Siberian lakes, blood and swamp Of Pripet on the Somme, over delicate, wiry frontiers; Over the national parklands, Subsidized plains, cooperative vineyards, Cities of the map like beasts drawn to the seas.

Next week it will be Spring, our tanks Emerge to manoeuvres And the tourists fall out of the sky To this continent not America, From all countries to other countries, From their forests to the cities.

From their streets to placid coves.

Suppressing turbulent motives On invasions called holiday, Ransacking salerooms with blood money.

Their portable histories Pound at the doors of their villas.

Douglas Dunn