Basil Bunting

(1900-1985 / England)

At Briggflatts Meetinghouse - Poem 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.

Comments about At Briggflatts Meetinghouse by Basil Bunting

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: silence, dance, wind, sun, time, fire

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

[Report Error]