The poem
Miss J.Hunter Dunn, Miss J.Hunter Dunn, Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun, What strenuous singles we played after tea, We in the tournament - you against me!
Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness of joy, The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy, With carefullest carelessness, gaily you won, I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn
Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, How mad I am, sad I am, glad that you won, The warm-handled racket is back in its press, But my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less.
Her father's euonymus shines as we walk, And swing past the summer-house, buried in talk, And cool the verandah that welcomes us in To the six-o'clock news and a lime-juice and gin.
The scent of the conifers, sound of the bath, The view from my bedroom of moss-dappled path, As I struggle with double-end evening tie, For we dance at the Golf Club, my victor and I.
On the floor of her bedroom lie blazer and shorts, And the cream-coloured walls are be-trophied with sports, And westering, questioning settles the sun, On your low-leaded window, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.
The Hillman is waiting, the light's in the hall, The pictures of Egypt are bright on the wall, My sweet, I am standing beside the oak stair And there on the landing's the light on your hair.
By roads "not adopted", by woodlanded ways, She drove to the club in the late summer haze, Into nine-o'clock Camberley, heavy with bells And mushroomy, pine-woody, evergreen smells.
Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, I can hear from the car park the dance has begun, Oh! Surry twilight! importunate band! Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl's hand!
Around us are Rovers and Austins afar, Above us the intimate roof of the car, And here on my right is the girl of my choice, With the tilt of her nose and the chime of her voice.
And the scent of her wrap, and the words never said, And the ominous, ominous dancing ahead. We sat in the car park till twenty to one And now I'm engaged to Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.
Reprinted with the permission of John Murray (Publishers) Ltd.
An upper-class satire? An expression of Betjeman's true love of able and capable (almost butch) women? Whatever it trult is, the poem is truly romantic and graceful, with a sublime conclusion.
Hello, there!
I'm sorry to have to say, that you havn't got the text of this poem right:
Your version reads:
Oh! Surry twilight...
It should read:
Oh! Full Surrey twilight...
with Surrey being a county in the south of England
Can you make sure, that your readers get the right version?
Thank you!
I like this poem.
Basically, Miss Joan hunter Dunn and Betjiman went to play tennis, then went back to her house, then they got ready for a dance at the golf club. they leave, she drives, they arrive at car park but they stay in the car, dont go to the dance. Finally they get engaged.
This poem is a good example of one of Betjimans favourite themes - strong and domineering women.
Perhaps they have sexual relations in the end, in the car? or perhaps, taking into account the time it was written, it was much more innocent than that?
How evocative of a lost idyll this poem conjures up for me. The rigid lines of middle class life in the Home counties, unrequited love and John's awkwardness with girls quite common in his generation of stalwart Englishmen who often had no love at home apart from their nannies. I can smell the pine trees in Surrey and the masked sexuality of Miss Joan Hunter Dunne. Wonderful