Four Poems

The Mill Deep in the evening slowly turns the mill Against a sky with melancholy pale; It turns and turns, its muddy-coloured sail Is infinitely heavy, tired, and ill. Its arms, complaining arms, in the dawn’s pink Rose, rose and fell; and in this o’ercast eve, And deadend nature’s silence, still they heave Themselves aloft,…

A Beacon for Europe

Emile Verhaeren 1855-1916 Tolerant but indifferent to so many of her distinguished visitors, England made no exception in the case of Emile Verhaeren, the ‘fair-haired young Belgian poet’, wrote Beatrice Worthing. (1) Though the poet came to Britain almost annually from the 1880s onwards, appreciation of his work did not extend beyond a small band of enthusiastic…