Academic journal article Chicago Review

Frank Baker and the Years of Love

Academic journal article Chicago Review

Frank Baker and the Years of Love

Article excerpt

Dear Frank of the Duchy fairly Frank

Of the roaring brae and the tansy bank,

I chime my lifetime under your roof

Tonight until at last my rough

And rude imagination roars

Engines of genius on your shores.

May they find you here in this same

House asnore in the next dream.

Eternity rides the lone prairie

With a draw too swift for any to see.

He ticks and talks and yells 'Yipee

Jeff Arnold shoots the time away.'

Now from aloneness to aloneness

Moves more than I know and less.

The bells of Shandon toll for the dead

And rock the stones on Gurnard's Head.

Christopher Wren is dead and gone

And his dome is the holy head of Donne.

The saints are distant, the bells are faint.

The small wind murmurs over Lelant

And Brother Ball and the Black Drummer

Are blessed by Meva and cross the Tamar.

Frank, I cross my heart to gather

The dry dove-leaf from the homing feather.

Are you awake and wishing or

Moved in a lonely dream over

The Great Kenidjack of the Dead? …

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