It is interesting for me to see Graves use the characteristically very female literary device of ‘Stream of Consciousness’, in order to drive his poem, and in addition, to place before us the streaming thoughts of this very appealing child. The marvelous thing about this poem – besides its astringency, vibrancy and precocious irreverence, is the that it observes the present moment with the use of all the natural senses – excepting perhaps smell – the absence of which, in the close confines of a weather-beset English congregation might have been more than just a qualified mercy. It’s pleasant here for dreams and thinking,Īlright then, in deference to recent comments, here is a belated 2¢ worth. ![]() It’s gone!) Who’s that Saint by the lake? That draws down Grace from Heaven again.” “Prayer,” says the kind voice, “is like a chain ![]() The full round and sweep of heathered hill. “Gabble-gabble,… brethren, …gabble – gabble!”
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