Elizabeth Jennings

Answers

I keep my answers small and keep them near; Big questions bruised my mind but still I let Small answers be a bulwark to my fear. The huge abstractions I keep from the light;

I visited the place where we last met. Nothing was changed, the gardens were well-tended, The fountains sprayed their usual steady jet; There was no sign that anything had ended And nothing to instruct

In Memory of Anyone Unknown to Me

At this particular time I have no one Particular person to grieve for, though there must Be many, many unknown ones going to dust Slowly, not remembered for what they have done Or left

Delay

The radiance of the star that leans on me Was shining years ago. The light that now Glitters up there my eyes may never see, And so the time lag teases me with how

A Chorus

Over the surging tides and the mountain kingdoms, Over the pastoral valleys and the meadows, Over the cities with their factory darkness, Over the lands where peace is still a power, Over all these

In a Garden

When the gardener has gone this garden Looks wistful and seems waiting an event. It is so spruce, a metaphor of Eden And even more so since the gardener went, Quietly godlike, but of

A Performance Of Henry V At Stratford-Upon-Avon

Nature teaches us our tongue again And the swift sentences came pat. I came Into cool night rescued from rainy dawn. And I seethed with language – Henry at Harfleur and Agincourt came apt

Accepted

You are no longer young, Nor are you very old. There are homes where those belong. You know you do not fit When you observe the cold Stares of those who sit In bath-chairs

One Flesh

Lying apart now, each in a separate bed, He with a book, keeping the light on late, She like a girl dreaming of childhood, All men elsewhere – it is as if they wait

Friday

We nailed the hands long ago, Wove the thorns, took up the scourge and shouted For excitement’s sake, we stood at the dusty edge Of the pebbled path and watched the extreme of pain.