Ah well, I think, even the chestnuts are breaking,
there is a soft down upon the cry of birds,
and they slip covertly, with intent gentleness,
among the bushes;
life is full in the green ear
and brilliant with chance,
what of the mere grain blown out
and forgotten,
rotting or ripening in a shroud of grass?
This previously unpublished work is included in Laurie Lee’s “Collected Poems”, published by Penguin Modern Classics on 26 October
Content from our partners
Subscribe to The New Statesman today from only £8.99 per month
Related
This article appears in the 18 Oct 2023 issue of the New Statesman, War on Three Fronts