distance from isolation
10 It becomes still more difficult to find Words at once true and kind, Or not untrue and not unkind.
1960 1964
Ambulances
Closed like confessionals,1 they thread Loud noons of cities, giving back Non e of the glances they absorb. Light glossy grey, arms on a plaque,
5 They come to rest at any kerb: All streets in time are visited.
The n children strewn on steps or road, Or women coming from the shops Past smells of different dinners, see
10 A wild white face that overtops Red stretcher-blankets momently As it is carried in and stowed,
An d sense the solving emptiness
That lies just under all we do,
15 An d for a second get it whole, So permanent and blank and true. Th e fastened doors recede. Poor soul, They whisper at their own distress;
1. Enclosed stalls in Roman Catholic churches in which priests hear confession.
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2570 / PHILIP LARKIN
20For borne away in deadened air May go the sudden shut of loss Round something nearly at an end, And what cohered in it across The years, the unique random blend Of families and fashions, there 2530 At last begin to loosen. Far From the exchange of love to lie Unreachable inside a room The traffic parts to let go by Brings closer what is left to come, And dulls to distance all we are. 1961 1964 High Windows When I see a couple of kids And guess he's fucking her and she's Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm, I know this is paradise 5 Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives? Bonds and gestures pushed to one side Like an outdated combine harvester,1 And everyone young going down the long slide ioTo happiness, endlessly. I wonder if Anyone looked at me, forty years back, And thought, That'll he the life; No God any more, or sweating in the dark 15About hell and that, or having to hide What you think of the priest. He And his lot will all go down the long slide Like free bloody birds. And immediately 20Rather than words comes the thought of high windows: The sun-comprehending glass, And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless. 1967 1974
1. Farm machine for harvesting grain.
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HOMAGE TO A GOVERNMENT / 25 7 1
Sad Steps'
Groping back to bed after a piss I part thick curtains, and am startled by Th e rapid clouds, the moon's cleanliness.
Four o'clock: wedge-shadowed gardens lie 5 Under a cavernous, a wind-picked sky. There's something laughable about this,
The way the moon dashes through clouds that blow Loosely as cannon-smoke to stand apart (Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below)
10 High and preposterous and separate? Lozenge0 of love! Medallion of art! diamondlike shape O wolves of memory! Immensements! No,
On e shivers slightly, looking up there. The hardness and the brightness and the plain 15 Far-reaching singleness of that wide stare
Is a reminder of the strength and pain Of being young; that it can't come again, But is for others undiminished somewhere.
1968 1974
Homage to a Government
Next year we are to bring the soldiers home For lack of money, and it is all right. Places they guarded, or kept orderly, Must guard themselves, and keep themselves orderly.
5 We want the money for ourselves at home Instead of working. An d this is all right.
It's hard to say who wanted it to happen, But now it's been decided nobody minds. The places are a long way off, not here,
10 Whic h is all right, and from what we hear The soldiers there only made trouble happen. Next year we shall be easier in our minds.
Next year we shall be living in a country That brought its soldiers home for lack of money.
15 The statues will be standing in the same Tree-muffled squares, and look nearly the same.
1. Cf. Sir Philip Sidney's Astrophil and Stella 31: 'With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies.'
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257 2 / PHILIP LARKIN
Our children will not know it's a different country. All we can hope to leave them now is money.
Jan. 10, 1969 1974
The Explosion
