Poem of the week: from Briggflatts by Basil Bunting

The opening stanzas to this landmark work show how much can be contained in a few dense but ringingly musical lines

Briggflatts

I
Brag, sweet tenor bull,
descant on Rawthey’s madrigal,
each pebble its part
for the fells’ late spring.
Dance tiptoe, bull,
black against may.
Ridiculous and lovely
chase hurdling shadows
morning into noon.
May on the bull’s hide
and through the dale
furrows fill with may,
paving the slowworm’s way.

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