At Briggflatts Meetinghouse by Basil Bunting


  Boasts time mocks cumber Rome. Wren
set up his own monument.
Others watch fells dwindle, think
the sun’s fires sink.

Stones indeed sift to sand, oak
blends with saint’s bones.
Yet for a little longer here
stone and oak shelter

silence while we ask nothing
but silence. Look how clouds dance
under the wind’s wing, and leaves
delight in transience.

Basil Bunting

2 Replies to “At Briggflatts Meetinghouse by Basil Bunting”

  1. Beautiful site. I just blogged about this great new book I recently discovered called Poetry Speaks to Children. It comes with a CD, and it’s had the most amazing affect on my 3-year old twins. I thought you might want to check it out.

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