o England, the time we thought

your cows were cricketers

the sun was blinking round

like an uncle saying o o o

very quietly to his feet

the fizzed out grass

beery river thick with weeds

water meadows endless even

the church kept winking

on the horizon popping between

poplars bending willows

standard oaks a tower

too grand a digression ups

downs trade booms mills

puritans buried by law in wool

soil smoothed to subtle tumuli

soft buttered decline a boat

buffing a bank in evening light

the tower again Constable added it in

if he could quite right you must

fix a scene with something

pretend churches stay put

place your men Captain

arrange the gaps the cows stood

circled intent groupings

of white curdling in the corner

of the eye cricket end of season

tea the milk still settling