I do try not to be too obvious in my choice of Sunday Poem and I endeavour to mix in the well-loved with the not so well-known. This week I was prompted by a comment I left on Backwatersman’s blog and just couldn’t resist; I should have saved it for June, but I am simply too impetuous. I always read this out loud because it has the rhythm of real speech. Try it.
Yes. I remember Adlestrop –
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat the express-train drew up there
Unwontedly. It was late June.
The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform. What I saw
Was Adlestrop – only the name
And willows, willow-herb and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.
And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.