Memory of England

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume LXXIII, 7 December 1940, Page 6

Memory of England

I am glad, I think, my happy mother died Before the German airplanes over the English countryside Dropped bombs into the peaceful hamlets that we used to know— ' Sturminster-Newton, and the road that used to run Past bridge, past cows in meadow, Warm in the sun. Cool in the elm-tree’s shadow, To the thatched cottage roofs of Sliillingstone; Dropped bombs on Romsey Abbey, where the ageing records show (Or did a little while ago) In faded ink and elegant fine hand The name of a boy baby christened there In 15—(I forget the year) Later to sail away to this free land And build in what is now named Massachusetts a new Romsey here. (My ancestor, —I still can see the page. Our sentimental journey, our quaint pilgrimage!) So gravely threatened now That lovely village under the Barrows’ brow. Where peering from my window at dawn under the shelving thatch With cold bare feet and neck scratched by the straw I saw the hounds go by: So gravely threatened the kind people there, She in her neat front flower plot. I" like as not Up in the ’lotment hoeing. Or coming home to his supper of beer and cheese, Bread and shallots, These thoughts ... And thoughts like these. . . Make me content that she. not I. Went first, went without knowing. (Edna St. Vincent Millay. America’s most gifted poet, in the “New York Times Magazine”).