Just thought I’d totter from my (metaphorical) sickbed to pose the following question (probably a rhetorical one) – who is the author of the following poem? The mystery bard was quite a well-known figure in his or her own day, and, although not best-known as a poet, it was a well-known fact that they wrote the stuff. The highlight of their career as a poet was to have been having John Betjeman reading one of their poems aloud on the telly, but that was cancelled due to an act of disobedience. It’s not apparent at first sight, but there is a connection with the previous two poems. It appears to be about going to the seaside in Sussex, which might offer another clue.
You rattle down the track
like a ship down the slipway
toward the Sound and waiting freedom
to be known
in its circle of the world:
then leaving train at cluttered station
like ship leaves cluttered land
you make a way to your destination
of that verging golden strand
to stand on the edge of freshness
by the curling rolling waves
with arms outstretched to feel the space
that a city pilgrim craves.
(It shows how addle-pated I am at the moment that I was just about to tag this post with the name of the poet …)