Grey sunken chest
crasked rusty pumps
and oaken floors
names and jest
upon the posts within...
DOES ANYONE KNOW THIS POEM? OR THE REST OF IT? I WOULD LOVE TO FIND THIS FOR MY AUNT IN AUSTRALIA. WE HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR A NUMBER OF YEARS WITH NO LUCK. THANKS SO MUCH IN ANTICIPATION. EMMA X (LONDON)
Rain sunken roof, grown green and thin
For sparrows' nests and starlings' nests;
Dishevelled eaves; unwieldy doors,
Cracked rusty pump, and oaken floors,
And idly-pencilled names and jests
Upon the posts within
The light pales at the spider's lust,
The wind tangs through the shattered pain:
An empty hop-poke spreads across
The gaping frame to mend the loss
And keeps out sun as well as rain,
Mildewed with clammy dust.
The smell of apples stored in hay
And homely cattle cake is there.
Use and disuse have come to terms,
The walls are hollowed out by worms,
But mens feet keep the mid-floor bare
And free from worse decay.
All merry noise of hens astir
Or sparrows squabbling on the roof
Comes to the barn's broad open door;
You hear upon the stable floor
Old hungry Dapple strike his hoof,
And the blue fan-tail's whir.
The barn is old, and very old,
But not a place of spectral fear.
Cobwebs and dust and speckled sun
Come to old buildings every one.
Long since they made their dwelling here,
And here you may behold
Nothing but simple wane and change;
Your tread will wake no ghost, your voice
Will fall on slence undeterred,
No phantom wailing will be heard,
Only the farm's blithe cheerful noise;
The barn is old, not strange.
By: Edmund Blunden