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The Bramble Seed

(Hommage to Andrew Marvell 1)

In secret — darker than the night —
Comes the Bramble seed, so slight
Abandoned here, lost as a stranger;
It soon sets out its show of danger,
Armed, and in stealth, it plays a part:
A thousand daggers to the husbandman’s faint heart;
Who, being neglectful of parterre and border
(Which being soundly over-run, lose order),
Retreats to study at his garden-books,
Beholding now his land with jealous looks,
But now! See how these armoured stems
Set forth their flowers as diadems,
And soon the luscious fruit will sport —
Food for the eyes, the table and for thought.

© Keith Spurgin 19 August 2017

The previous work is to appear in Nameless Stations, a book of my poems illustrated and published by Andrew Lanyon. In that book there are excerpts from a longer poem, which is accompanied by a promise that the complete work will be found here. Please take a deep breath and get behind the wheel.

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