Traveling America
by JAN STRUTHER
TRAVELING America, I am England-haunted.
I seek new landscapes out of the window of the train,
But wherever I look, an England enlarged, transplanted,
Springs to my sight, and carries me home again.
I seek new landscapes out of the window of the train,
But wherever I look, an England enlarged, transplanted,
Springs to my sight, and carries me home again.
The clapboard house in a Massachusetts village
Is a weatherboard house in Essex. From both, men sail
To plow their lives away in a dangerous tillage;
In both, wives lie uneasy, an ear on the gale.
Is a weatherboard house in Essex. From both, men sail
To plow their lives away in a dangerous tillage;
In both, wives lie uneasy, an ear on the gale.
The Pennsylvania meadows are green and quiet
As Penn’s own meadows three thousand miles away;
The cattle browse, and the honeysuckles riot,
And the streams run slow, and slow men cart the hay.
As Penn’s own meadows three thousand miles away;
The cattle browse, and the honeysuckles riot,
And the streams run slow, and slow men cart the hay.
In Chesapeake Bay the woods come down to the water,
Feathery-soft in the moonlight as funeral plumes:
I think of a small mother with a well-grown daughter,
And remember the Devon coast and the wooded combes.
Feathery-soft in the moonlight as funeral plumes:
I think of a small mother with a well-grown daughter,
And remember the Devon coast and the wooded combes.
The Shenandoah Valley, the Blue Ridge lying
Beyond it, the sound of crickets and whippoorwills —
This is the valley of Avon, with plovers crying,
And daylight dying over the Malvern Hills.
Beyond it, the sound of crickets and whippoorwills —
This is the valley of Avon, with plovers crying,
And daylight dying over the Malvern Hills.
Southward. Kentucky. Small fields, steep and stony;
Patient eyes staring from a rickety shack.
(I’ve seen those eyes in Scotland, and the one cow bony,
And the stunted crops, raised with a breaking back.)
Patient eyes staring from a rickety shack.
(I’ve seen those eyes in Scotland, and the one cow bony,
And the stunted crops, raised with a breaking back.)
Mobile. Biloxi. Rose-pink water-mallows
Along the Gulf, in the marshes of Pontchartrain.
(The marshes of Kent are smaller; their creeks run shallow;
Their mallow-blooms are paler, and wet with rain.)
Along the Gulf, in the marshes of Pontchartrain.
(The marshes of Kent are smaller; their creeks run shallow;
Their mallow-blooms are paler, and wet with rain.)
The grazing lands ... It is only the size that varies.
Mind’s eye sees color and shape, but has no scale:
It can gather the length and breadth of Nebraska’s prairies
On the fells of Yorkshire, hard by Arkendale.
Mind’s eye sees color and shape, but has no scale:
It can gather the length and breadth of Nebraska’s prairies
On the fells of Yorkshire, hard by Arkendale.
The orchards of Michigan and Minnesota
Are Hereford apple-orchards in blossomtime;
And, climbing the long Black Hills of South Dakota,
It is still the Monadhliath that I climb.
Are Hereford apple-orchards in blossomtime;
And, climbing the long Black Hills of South Dakota,
It is still the Monadhliath that I climb.
But here, in the Southwest, opening my eyes on
Vermilion mesas rising from painted sands,
I have found at last a land with a new horizon,
A land which holds no echoes of other lands.
Vermilion mesas rising from painted sands,
I have found at last a land with a new horizon,
A land which holds no echoes of other lands.
Here are cactus and thorn, with nightmare flowers;
Basalt and gypsum; trees long turned to stone.
Over the dried arroyo the red cliff towers:
Here is nothing familiar, nothing known.
Basalt and gypsum; trees long turned to stone.
Over the dried arroyo the red cliff towers:
Here is nothing familiar, nothing known.
Silence, and sun, and sand. The lizards flicker.
Ghostly and restless rolls the tumbleweed.
The eyes that gaze from the scattered huts of wicker
Are the secret eyes of an ancient and secret breed.
Ghostly and restless rolls the tumbleweed.
The eyes that gaze from the scattered huts of wicker
Are the secret eyes of an ancient and secret breed.
This is a country of dream, a world enchanted,
Improbable, fantastic, a wild release.
Here, and here alone, I can walk unhaunted.
I shall stay here long. Strangeness, at last, brings peace.
Improbable, fantastic, a wild release.
Here, and here alone, I can walk unhaunted.
I shall stay here long. Strangeness, at last, brings peace.