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Listeners' Fantasies |
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Come Into the Polytunnels, Ian
by Alfred, Lord Venison (aka Poll Barn)
Our regular contributor Poll Barn graced the Fantasy Archers topic of with this version of Tennyson's famous poem.
Come into the polytunnels, Ian,
For the black bat, Peggy, has flown,
Come into the tunnels, Ian,
I am here at the gate alone;
And the silage spices are wafted abroad
And the musk of the strawberries blown.
¤¤¤
All night have the strawberries heard
The Tommy Croker band;
All night have the polytunnels stirred
To the dancers, hand in hand,
Till a silence fell with the waking bird
And a hush on this Archers land.
¤¤¤
I said to the strawberries, "There is but one
With whom he has heart to be gay.
When will the diners leave him alone?
He is weary of Gables Grey."
Now half to Borchester are gone,
And half on the Felpersham way;
Low on the sand and loud on the stone
The last car echoes away.
¤¤¤
I said to the deer, "The brief night goes
In babble and revel and wine.
O young lord-lover, what sighs are those
For one that will never be thine?
But mine, but mine!" So I swore to the rows,
"For ever and ever, mine!"
¤¤¤
King chef of Grey Gables' jitterbug night,
Come hither, the cooking is done;
In trousers of check and toque of white,
Your Michelin star good as won.
Shine out, chef's hat so tall and so bright,
To the strawberries, and be their sun.
¤¤¤
There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate.
He is coming, my dove. my dear,
He is coming, my life, my fate.
The red deer cries, "He is here, he is here,"
And the roe deer weeps, "He is late;"
The tunnel listens, "I hear, I hear,"
And the strawberry whispers, "I wait."
¤¤¤
He is coming, my own, my sweet,
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear him and beat
Were it earth in a strawberry bed.
My dust would hear him and beat,
Had I lain for an episode dead;
Would start and tremble under his feet,
And blossom in strawberry red.
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