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Purchasing a 1975 New English Library edition of Breakfast in the Ruins from my local bookshop for 50p (I'm sure the store owner will post 1/2p to Mr Morhain as royalties on the sale), I was astonished to see two tiny sheets of dry notepaper flutter moth-like from out of the yellowing leaves when I opened it. Reflexively snatching them up before anyone could see (It was instinct - I thought they might have been banknotes) I discovered these verses, etched in faded blue 'Bic' biro and written in a curlicue-heavy hand....
Infinity
I
Summer's day, a sunlit bay,
My mind is overflowing,
It is alight,
At this wonderful sight,
My heart it is a-glowing.
II
With infinite peace, only to cease,
When a bird cries overhead,
What's this bird's plight, it's endless flight,
Not I could have said.
III
What's gone before upon this shore,
Only my mind's eye can see,
I see in my dream, a strange sunbeam,
Reflecting the inner me.
IV
Once more sunset, I don't regret,
Another day hath passed me by,
For I can't forget, the day we met,
I cannot live a lie.
V
And to dance, for romance,
This is the perfect place to be,
But not alone, on my own,
You see it's only me.
VI
This despair, I will share,
With a poem now and then,
So for a while, put on a smile,
Until we meet again.
From the tempo and idiom, I thought it could be Thomas Love Peacock, who was a big Moorcock fan. The use of simple and yet heart-warming imagery recalls the emotive wordplay of one S. Milligan, whose similarly coastal, nay, oceanic, piece:
I must go down to the sea again;
To the lonely sea and the sky.
I left my shoes and socks there;
I wonder if they're dry?
never fails to move me (usually to put the book down and go out). I would be interested to hear the critiques of other readers before I take the manuscript to the British Museum Cleaner's Cafeteria Room for their archives...
Infinity
I
Summer's day, a sunlit bay,
My mind is overflowing,
It is alight,
At this wonderful sight,
My heart it is a-glowing.
II
With infinite peace, only to cease,
When a bird cries overhead,
What's this bird's plight, it's endless flight,
Not I could have said.
III
What's gone before upon this shore,
Only my mind's eye can see,
I see in my dream, a strange sunbeam,
Reflecting the inner me.
IV
Once more sunset, I don't regret,
Another day hath passed me by,
For I can't forget, the day we met,
I cannot live a lie.
V
And to dance, for romance,
This is the perfect place to be,
But not alone, on my own,
You see it's only me.
VI
This despair, I will share,
With a poem now and then,
So for a while, put on a smile,
Until we meet again.
From the tempo and idiom, I thought it could be Thomas Love Peacock, who was a big Moorcock fan. The use of simple and yet heart-warming imagery recalls the emotive wordplay of one S. Milligan, whose similarly coastal, nay, oceanic, piece:
I must go down to the sea again;
To the lonely sea and the sky.
I left my shoes and socks there;
I wonder if they're dry?
never fails to move me (usually to put the book down and go out). I would be interested to hear the critiques of other readers before I take the manuscript to the British Museum Cleaner's Cafeteria Room for their archives...
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