A friend of mine recently mentioned a trip to the beautiful city of Oxford and straight away it reminded me of how much I love Matthew Arnold’s , ‘city of dreaming spires,’ from his poem -Thyrsis:
…And that sweet city with her dreaming spires,
She needs not June for beauty’s heightening…
Arnold is right when he says Oxford does not need the benfit of June’s enhancing. It is a special place whatever time of year you visit. Here are two extracts from different poems I wrote one wet November after a trip to Oxford. Even in the rain and the dusk it seemed a place of magic – and of course as we all know it was the home of Morse!
November in Oxford
……gilt edged stucco and ceiling rose
long hidden, now exposed
cry softly through paper walls
into wet city streets
and fountains dance
in the shadow of life’s darkening
pool – while you hide
under the skirts of the umbrella
it’s stems blown wide
in the November wind.
Sunday
…high stools and low ceilings
banish a century of Sunday blues
Moss walled cocoon
crowd alleys and cobble
patent pavements,
red wine undress recall
unknown memories
shared, didn’t everyone
watch Morse? Did you? …
I think perhaps it’s time for another trip to Oxford!
