Treasure Island

Geoffrey Grigson

(2 March 1905 – 25 November 1985 / Pelynt, Cornwall)

Before a Fall


And what was the big room he walked in?
  The big room he walked in,
  Over the smooth floor,
  Under the sky light,
  Was his own brain.

And what was it he admired there?
  He admired there
  The oval mirror.

And what was it the oval mirror showed him there?
  It showed him the roots
  Through the ceiling,
  The gross armchair, the bookcase
  Shuttered with glass,
  The Hymns bound in velvet,
  The porcelain oven,
  The giant egg cups,
  The hairy needles,
  And the silence

  And the smell of smouldering dung
  Hung between the walls
  (Which were yellow as dandelion).

And how did he leave?
  On the smooth floor
  His neat feet jarred
  And his teeth grew down
  To his heart, and he slipped
  On the white stairhead -

Which ended?
  Which ended in coldness
  And darkness,
  Through which he fell
  (So they tell)
  With little hope, and slowly.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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