Francis Scarfe Poems
- Tyne Dock The summer season at Tyne Dock Hoisted my boyhood ...
- Ode In Honour Evening is part of the jig-saw truth of ...
- The Clock Far away is one who now is sleeping In the same ...
- Kitchen Poem An Elegy for Tristan Tzara In the ...
- Cats Those who love cats which do not even purr Or which are...
- The Merry Window The alabaster legs of the lonely woman hang...
- Progression See that satan pollarding a tree, That geometric...
Francis Scarfe was an English poet, critic and novelist, who became an academic, translator and Director of the British Institute in Paris.
He was born in South Shields; he was brought up from a young age at the Royal Merchant Seaman's Orphanage. He was educated at Durham University and Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge. He then studied at the Sorbonne.
While in Paris he wrote ... more »
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The summer season at Tyne Dock
Hoisted my boyhood in a crane
Above the shaggy mining town,
Above the slaghills and the rocks,
Above the middens in backlanes
And wooden hen-huts falling down.
Vermilion grass grew in the street
Where the blind pit-ponies pranced
And poppies screamed by butchers' stalls
Where bulls kicked sparks with dying feet,
And in the naked larks I sensed
A cruel god beneath it all.
Over the pit-head wheel the moon
Was clean as a girl's face in school;
I envied the remote old man
Who lived there, happy and alone,