Hello…
Welcome to the new location of my blog. The old posts will return slowly. I’ll be figuring out the Wordpress as I go along, so please bear with me.
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In Donald Hall’s book of prose pieces, Principal Products of Portugal, I discover a lovely little piece about "one of the great solitaries", the hermit poet Robert Francis. Here, from Hall’s piece, is a poem by Francis.
The Oxen
Massive, submissive, mute
The yoked oxen stand
Waiting the rod’s touch
So in the Iliad
While the rod rested, so
In the Old Testament
With those benign great eyes
Gazing as they now gaze
At something beyond time.
