Old greening fences,
Stood up, a life ago.
Tumbling down and broken,
Along shaded garden-backs.
Pressing the high, thorny edges,
of the railway cut.
Bleached bridal blossom,
Pinned ivory in the Hawthorne.
New branches scratching sky,
And old roots clutching earth.
All this, out of sight,
Down in the sidings.
Rubble piled abundant,
Bricks stacked on bricks,
And broken earth-machines,
Dry grass and telegraph poles,
Pipes, gravel and sleepers.
And then a blaze of yellow Rape