Oh Immaculate Heart of Mary, Heart
of the Woods, the Invisible Deer, the Woodsman,
his Axe, his Leaf Blower. Oh Flawless Heart
of the North Wind, the Frosted grass, the Tattered
Curtains. Oh Tidy Heart of Kate and Grace
Light our way Home!
There are layers of dirt under petticoats
between the wood and city, cobwebs and curtains.
They have hunted, gathered, chopped wood, scrubbed
floors, black leaded stoves, whitened hearths,
slaked dust and swept and wept. They are no angels
and know the woodsmen and plasterers' low slung ways.
Oh Tidy Heart of Kate and Grace, Heart
of our Mother, of all our Dead, and Us
sliding down the wooded slope, England's Glory
Light our way Home!
Reprinted from Into the Woods by Anna Robinson (Enitharmon, London, 2014), by kind permission of the publishers. There is a review of the collection on page 25.