Poetry:

...Anne Porter The Wall I'm on a journey And looking out the window of the train At signs of early spring Some of the trees Have put forth flakes of leaf Translucent, pale from winter And the young rye Is downy on the fields The sky is overcast There's little color It must be windy out Risers and buys Are chipped and chiseled with small waves Here is a lake And on it there's a fleet of swans Mending their necks to feed Or slowly sailing Their ancestors Were brought from England To ornament the waters Of country mansions But now they have gone wild and multiplied The nest in solitary places Of their own choosing It's there I've seen them Shining like angels, in the reedy ponds Of the salt marshes near the sea And now we're coming to a station Where I look up And see a high retaining-wall Of rouch-cui stone And near the top of the wall There arc three words That have been written with black paint The words are DIGNITY IN PESTILENCE...