3 OCTOBER 1958, page 34
The Gaiety Of Language
BY FRANK KERMODE G RANTED, for an hour, the tongue of a critical angel, one could say of these books* nothing that could possibly be more extraordinary than this : they have not......
A Moth, A Memory
Inside, on the mosquito net, a dowdy moth Kettle-drumming to get out. Outside, varicoloured butterflies Bunched on the trees, like a harvest festival. A night comes into my......
Things Present •
All things being done or undone As my hands adore or abandon— Embody a now, erect a here A bare-backed tramp and a ditch without fire Cat or bread; and no shoes, Honour, or......
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