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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
CLIFTON, by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN Poet's Biography First Line: I'm here at clifton, grinding at the mill Last Line: And thunder in her caves -- thank god! Thank god! Alternate Author Name(s): Brown, T. E. Subject(s): Clifton, England | |||
I'M here at Clifton, grinding at the mill My feet for thrice nine barren years have trod; But there are rocks and waves at Scarlett still, And gorse runs riot in Glen Chass -- thank God! Alert, I seek exactitude of rule, I step, and square my shoulders with the squad; But there are blaeberries on old Barrule, And Langness has its heather still -- thank God! There is no silence here: the truculent quack Insists with acrid shriek my ears to prod, And, if I stop them, fumes; but there's no lack Of silence still on Carraghyn -- thank God! Pragmatic fibs surround my soul, and bate it With measured phrase, that asks the assenting nod; I rise, and say the bitter thing, and hate it -- But Wordsworth's castle's still at Peel -- thank God! O broken life! O wretched bits of being, Unrhythmic, patched, the even and the odd! But Bradda still has lichens worth the seeing, And thunder in her caves -- thank God! thank God! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest... |
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