Today's poem was another particular favourite of Cyril's, marked with his double tick, a number 3 in the top left hand corner, and a form of his signature.
I heard you laugh,
The low soft sound of muted
Strings of harps,
And my rash heart leapt high
In wild arpeggios;
And those firm hands
Did rest and dampen down
These vibrant strings,
And then I heard you say
"I heard something?"
And then, O then
I heard you laugh.
11/4/1959
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| 27 Eccleston Square, London |
Talking to my father the other day, he told me about when Marianne moved out of her flat in Eccleston Square, London, into his house in Kent in 1971 prior to their impending November wedding. He turned up with a car full of tea chests to help move her possessions. And the packing began. A double-door cupboard in the living room was opened, revealing books stacked from floor to ceiling. Daddy was rather overwhelmed, but started taking them from the shelves to pack. And Mummy coyly said 'err, there's another layer behind...'. And another, and another, apparently :-) Several thousand books later, and an incredibly full car, the job was finally done...
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