I COULD NOT INTERPRET THE SPRING
Poems by Frances Gill

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Frances Gill writes: ‘I was born in Kent, lived in the Far East and West Indies, worked as a Librarian and a Nurse. I published short stories, articles and verse. Once on a visit to a museum I was impressed by an elderly, infirm woman who dominated those about her. For the first time I was aware of and interested in old people. This experience, together with memories of hospital years, surfaced much later in poetry. I do not regard myself as a poet, but as someone who occasionally writes a poem.’

I Could Not Interpret The Spring brings together the best of Frances Gill’s poems on the theme of the elderly. Some of these poems first appeared in Poetry Review, New Statesman and the Arts Council Anthology New Poetry 3.

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The Down Line

The years were crossing in his brain.
He waited as if were only late
and would appear, through pines
And frost and October trees,
Striking brightness from the ground;
Sparking down its private lane
To the signal stop.

Passengers were clipped away.
Mailbags, papers and fish laid down;
Carriages sank into heather and fern.
In platform gardens ice flowers grow
To minimal stars;
At the signal stop the lamps unburn.

He speaks of this.
Of lanterns and flags, engines with names
Gone down the line.
Holding my hand, seems not to know
I now hold his.

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I COULD NOT INTERPRET THE SPRING
Price £4.95 per copy post free (£3.30 post free to Associate Members)
Cover illustration: Jane Ward
Publication: 1984 (32 pages laminated paperback)