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VISIT TO BRONTELAND, by             Poem Explanation        
First Line: The road climbs from the valley past the public


The road climbs from the valley past the public
Park and turns, at the Haworth Co-operative Stores,
Into the grey stone village, and the steep
Street leading to the Parsonage, the Inn, the w.c.'s;
To the Church of St. Michael and All Angels, high in trees.


The West Lane Baptists are putting on
Patience" , the playbills say.
The Heathcliff Tearooms are aglow
With English teachers in sensible tweeds. Bearded cyclists
Lean on their pedals, and their saddles shine and sway
Up the hill to the Y. H. A.


Across the valley thick with mills
The fellside rises like an aerial map
Of fields and drystone walls and farms.
Pylons saunter over with a minimum of fuss,
And round the bend from Keighley comes the Bronte bus.


An arty signboard poses Charlotte in a crinoline
And ringlets, penning Jane Eyre, at a table with a quill.
This must be it." The wondering Americans, like technicolor ads,
Have reverence plainly written on their open faces.
They know just how one should behave in hallowed places.


A sea of scriptured slabs
Shines in the graveyard under the twilight rain.
The cold winds are crying in the trees.
New heights above the pines
Are wuthered by tractors of open-cast mines.


The church where the Brontes worshipped
Is long demolished. Only a brass plate
Marks where their bones are buried.
Smothered In Parks Committee geraniums, Anne lies alone
In Scarborough Old Churchyard, under a dolled-up stone.


Now, in the village roofs, the television aerial aspires.
No idle toy would have tempted Branwell
From the Bull" , and brandy; or kept that sister
From her tragic poems. They knew they had nothing but the moor
And themselves. It is we, who want all, who are poor.






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