Fence must be looked at; fence is too much neglected;
Most ancient indeed is fence; but it is not merely
White ants’ and weather’s ravage must be inspected,
The broken paling where we can see too clearly
The neighbours at their affairs, that larger hole
Where Hogan’s terrier ate it, or very nearly;
But fence most quintessential, fence in its soul.
For fence is defensa, Latin; fence is old Roman
And heaven knows what wild tribes, rude and unknown,
It sprang from first, when man took shelter with his woman;
Fence is no simple screen where Hogan may prune
His roses decently hidden by paling or lattice
Or sporting together some sunny afternoon
Be noticed with Mrs Hogan at nymphs and satyrs;
But fence is earthwork, defensa; connected no doubt
With fossa, a moat; straight from the verb to defend;
Therefore ward off, repel, stand guard on the moat;
None climbs this fence but cat or Hogan’s friend.
Fence is of spears and brambles; fence is defiance
To sabre-toothed tigers, to all the world in the end,
And there behind it the Hogans stand like lions.
It is not wise to meet the Hogans in quarrel,
They have a lawyer and he will issue writs;
Thieves and trespassers enter at deadly peril,
The brave dog bites the postman where he sits.
Just as they turn the hose against the summer’s
Glare on the garden, so in far fiercer jets
Here they unleash the Hogans against all comers.
True it is not very often the need arises
And they are peaceable people behind their barrier;
But something is here that must be saved in a crisis,
They know it well and so does the sharp-toothed terrier.
They bring him bones, he worships them deeply and dankly,
He thinks Mrs Hogan a queen and Hogan a warrior,
Most excellent people, and they agree with him, frankly.
The world, they feel, needs Hogans; they can contribute
To its dull pattern all their rich singularity;
And if, as is true, it pays them no proper tribute,
Hogans from Hogans at least shall not lack charity.
Shielded by fences are they not free to cherish
Each bud, each shoot, each fine particularity
Which in the Hogans burgeons and must not perish?
It is not just that their mighty motor mower
Roars loudest for miles and chops up the insolent grass,
Nor that the Iceland poppies are dancing in flower,
Nor the new car all shiny with chromium and glass,
Nor the fridge and T.V., nor that, the bloom of their totem,
Their freckled children always come first in the class
Or sometimes at least, and never are seen at the bottom;
It is all this and so much more beside
Of Hogans down the ages in their proud carriage
And Hogan young and Mrs Hogan a bride
And napkins washed and babies fumbling their porridge,
Things which no prying stranger can know or feel –
All locked in the strange intimacy of marriage,
Which by all means let decent fences conceal.
So let us to work, good neighbour, this Saturday morning,
Nail up the paling so Hogans are free to be Hogans
And Stewarts be Stewarts and no one shall watch us scorning
And no one break in with bullets and bombs and slogans
Or we will stand guard at the fence and fight as we can.
World is against us, but world has had its warning;
Deep out of time is fence and deep is man.
(Douglas Alexander Stewart)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, World Poems, Time Poems, Soul Poems, Friendship Poems, Flowers Poems, Kings & Queens Poems, Morning Poems, Woman Poems, Summer Poems, Work & Career PoemsBased on Keywords: terrier, comers, peaceable, iceland, writs, postman, inspected, hogan, totem, unleash, napkins