3 JUNE 1989, Page 33

House

At the end of the lonely footpath through the fields The house stood empty on its dirty hill.

All round it pampas-grasses grew so thick It seemed half-sunken when the wind was still: But when the wind blew hard, white thrashing grasses Flowed in and out of every window- sill.

Hagiwara Sakutaro (1886-1942)