Arwyn Evans
An English Dream
Here there are ghosts
he said
opening the door
A draught
musty with cassocks
dry as dead breath
Shadows and bare stone
See them he pointed
with a shaking hand
They only show themselves
in early evening at this time of year
but they are always there
Faint figures on a plastered wall
beyond oak pews and
the transparent lightI saw them kneel and heard
a whispered Miserere
in the rustle of a sparrows wings
before they left the plaster
bald
They are the Old Ones
said my guide
Out of a time before King Henry
broke with Rome
True Priests of this unhallowed plot
They take a strange revenge
on those whose fathers
played a part in desecration
Darkness upon darkness spread
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- Iota
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- Lamport Court
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- Magma
- Matchbox
- Matter
- Modern Poetry in Translation
- Monkey Kettle
- Moodswing
- Neon Highway
- New Welsh Review
- North, The
- Oasis
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- Pen Pusher Magazine
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- Poetry London (1951)
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- Poetry Salzburg Review
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- Private Tutor
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- Quarto
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- Review, The
- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
- Seventh Quarry, The
- Shearsman
- Smiths Knoll
- Smoke
- South
- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
- Tolling Elves
- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
- Wolf, The
- Yellow Crane, The