PORTRAITS OF THE ARTIST (F)

 On the Pentland Hills

                        I

Around us are our tender flock
Within this howling wilderness;
Under the shadow of the Rock
Care for them with me, Shepherdess.

As shepherds must we'll guide their feet
Amid the desert's brokenness
To where the gentle grass is sweet:
Care for them with me, Shepherdess.

We'll keep them near the water's flow
Whilst all around is barrenness;
While by is glassy streams they grow
Care for them with me, Shepherdess.

Teach me, as Rachel must have taught
Jacob, to heed their tenderness
In case the lambs are overwrought:
Care for them with me, Shepherdess.

A greater Shepherd guides above
Our ignorance and bruckleness;
Under the shelter of His love
Care for them with me, Shepherdess.

              II

The shepherd's skill
  Moving from man to dog
    From dog to sheep
    Moves at a level subtler and more deep
  Than that of one who carves a log,
Or sews a frill:
Instincts are thirled to will.

The fisherman
  Must read both sea and sky
    To sense his way
    Between where currents sport and fishes play.
  Wave-borne lest he wave-swamped should die
Instinct he can
Enfold a vivid cran.               (A cran is a measure of fresh herring)

The poet folds
  Images to his mind
    Herded by tropes
    Into the verse that fabricates his hopes:
  Or trawls in deeps to find
Silvers and golds
Live in swamped vessel holds.

             III

No, I am not ashamed
Of not being sailor or soldier:
These have no claim on
My genes. But can salt wind
And water, silver of fish
And their gut stench, screech
Of gulls, and wave voices
Inveigle themselves within
Chromosomes? Their homes abutted
On the North Sea, my forebears
Enfolded a living from it by
Dull courage of necessity,
Harsh days and long nights,
Sea burials. Widows', wives'
And mothers' untold fears
Rubbed into the family psyche.
His mother dreading the loss
Of all her men, my grandfather
Abandoned the sea (and the boat
He had named the "Glad Tidings")
Yet spent his days with fish.
My father learned to handle them
Deftly. But to me sea
Or fish are alien. Of that
Unravelling, I am ashamed.

(But don't lay any blame to the shepherdess.)