The poem
This empty street, this sky to blandness scoured, This air, a little indistinct with autumn Like a reflection, constitute the present -- A time traditionally soured, A time unrecommended by event.
But equally they make up something else: This is the furthest future childhood saw Between long houses, under travelling skies, Heard in contending bells -- An air lambent with adult enterprise,
And on another day will be the past, A valley cropped by fat neglected chances That we insensately forbore to fleece. On this we blame our last Threadbare perspectives, seasonal decrease.
I am completely in awe of anyone who has the time to type all of these poems up and with such accuracy and every thing- good effort! But ‘Triple Time’ is not in the collection 'The Whitsun Weddings' is it? Or is it?
Abel, well spotted you are totally right Tripple time isn't in the collection 'The Whitsun Weddings'. I should know i have studied the collection through and through.