in copper tinted bowers
as fern & flora cascade
the clear mountain side
keep here my purest hours
far from the madding crowd*

that i find not hq beverly hills
peeping though through a painted
scene as like as if they spawned
so precious a sky my worthless fall
binding briars to my joys & desires*

long have i fled the erynne furies
pursued & found me captive here,
accused a crime i never committed
& for that same innocent pardoned*,
the ground possessed & repossessed*

where once every flower kissed your name,
who knew you near long before you came.

* T Hardy Far from the Madding Crowd
* W Blake the Garden of Love
* Orestes
* S Heaney Ocean´s love to Ireland

Copyright Robin Ouzman Hislop 2004
All rights reserved