20 MAY 1989, Page 38

The Canada Geese at Kew Gardens

Theirs now for sure this Royal place, Its turdy walks and all The Ceanothuses that grace A high enclosing wall.

Now these, amid a lesser throng, Imprinted, two by two, Like commas punctuate the long Augustan avenue — Rough ground where old cow parsley droops, The unregarded corner, They leave to lower-income groups Of disadvantaged fauna.

Their web-feet flatten down the bents.

They watch an afternoon: They oversee, outside the Gents, The anxious pantaloon, The saris underneath the trees, The Asian gentlemen, Al-fresco luncheons, picnic teas, One ruined moorhen.

It is your poorer makes of bird, Unsound, un-Thatcherite,

L. K. Lawler