Poem of the week: How Are The Children Robin by WS Graham

How Are The Children Robin For Robin Skelton It does not matter how are you how are The children flying leaving home so early? The song is lost asleep, the blackthorn breaks Into its white flourish. The poet walks At all odd times hoping the road is empty. I mean me walking hoping the road is empty. Not that I would ever expect to see Them over the brow of the hill coming In scarlet anoraks to meet their Dad. A left, a right, my mad feet trudge the road Between the busy times. It raineth now Across the hedges and beneath the bough. It does not matter let that be a lesson To cross the fields. Keep off the roads. The Black Wood of Madron with its roof of rooks Is lost asleep flying into the dusk. When shall we see the children older returning Into the treetops? And what are they bringing? “Something to do with the generation gap, in a kind of way,” WS Graham mused after he’d finished reading this poem, recorded here one remarkable evening in Warwick . It’s essential listening, whether or not you’re already fortunate enough to have the Graham timbre in […]

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