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Bread and Circuses

Chapter 23: “EFFANY”
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About This Book

A lyrical collection of short poems ranges from quiet country scenes and childhood memories to urban sketches and religious reflections. The poet renders streams, gardens, market sellers, and domestic interiors in close sensory detail while pairing everyday observation with moral and spiritual meditation. Animal vignettes and playful pieces for children sit alongside elegies, prayers, and ironic portraits of modern life, producing tones of humour, tenderness, and solemnity. Varied forms and concise portraits move between pastoral lanes, London streets, and intimate household moments while attending to time, sorrow, and faith.

“EFFANY”

When elm-buds turn from red to green And growing lambs more staidly graze And brighter nettle-tops are seen Along the hedge-rows’ rambling ways; When leaves unclose where late the hail Rustled in naked hawthorn twig, April comes laughing up the vale And Effany comes round to dig.
Aloof among her nursery toys From her high casement Betsey sees His vellum-coloured corduroys Stirring behind the apple-trees, Clutching her trowel she descends, With unimagined projects big, For Effany and she are friends, And she helps Effany to dig.
Deep in the flowering currant-rows The robin twitters gentle mirth Where Effany with Betsey goes Triumphant o’er the new-turned earth; And the wind wanders out and in As doubting which it loves the best— The grizzly stubble round his chin, Or her be-ruffled golden crest.
His coat, lined with carnation red, Hangs in the plum-tree’s forkèd boughs, Till sun is low and the day sped And Betsey called into the house— He scrapes his spade, her trowel she, She looks and lingers loath to start With little earth-bound feet to tea, He takes his coat down to depart.
Half musing on the little maid He trudges towards the coming night, Stooping beneath his shouldered spade, To where across the curtained light With leaves upon its fiery fold His wife’s thin shadow falls alone— For she and Effany are old And all their little ones are gone.