These were the sounds that dinned upon his ear -
The spider’s fatal purring, and the grey
Trumpeting of old mammoths locked in ice.
No human sound there was: only the evil
Shriek of the violin sang of human woe
And conquest and defeat, and the round drums
Sobbed as they beat.
He saw the victim nailed against the night
With ritual stars. [...]
Archive for the ‘George Mackay Brown’ Category
Dream of Winter
Posted in George Mackay Brown, Poetry on June 23, 2007 | Leave a Comment »
