Roots
594 LISTEN HERE WHERE STUARTS LIE from Eyes ofthe Mole (1967) If ever fields were flecked with sun-gold green and hollows high, between tall tree-clumped hills that, circled with mauve mists, shoulder sky, it is here, in Shelbyanna, where Stuarts lie. If pine-cone chimes can sound the evensong, white wind-fingers pluck the willow harp, as night-things purr a silver slumber song, it is here where sleeping earthlings dream of dawn: ofviolets and melons wet with dewcornfields ripening in lush river bedsa hummingbird sucking pink hollyhockson hills where they shall no more walk. Here they are buried with their mighty dreams, weary giants sleeping in the soilin mottled fields of green and sun-flecked gold and misty hills that echo tales yet told abour the Stuarts. ROOTS from Eyes ofthe Mole (1967) Roots dug in this hungry craw of land are badly tangled. No resolute hand can jerk them up from the mesh of grass that entwines them to languishing eons that pass in a cloud of grey mildew, clogged with the sperm of man's endless renewal, from dust unto worm. ...
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