Leckhampton chimney has fallen down’ – Ivor Gurney
In fact, it’s still much as it was,
if you can find it, and if the dogs
(nobody walks the hill without one)
will leave off for a moment jumping
to press their muddy scrawl on you.
Out here, I’m protected, surely
with three jackets. I missed the bus,
lost the path, then climbed the most
difficult route, up the old
tram incline to this stack of limestone.
Walking, he imagined its collapse,
yet here it is. Smokeless. Solitary.
A cenotaph for something quarried.
Headquarters, chapel, school,
government building, home, asylum.
The Devil’s Chimney. Its partial view
of Gloucestershire makes it seem
a healthy peaceful place, but hard
especially on lungs. In Stone House,
he walks and walks the level grounds.
