Blank eyd silver glittering

  Still hold the silent depths of the river

  Even in their death

  Where she sits I hope the smell may be less

  Then the cart is gone

  Though her dove flickering hand wave long

  As it disappear into the damp unrolling dawn

  The mist still thick on either side

  Fading and fading

  Even the sound of the hooves gone

  I left standing at the side of the road

  All life draind from me

  Cold cold cold

  Til I come to myself and realize

  I must back to Stocton Hill

  Already I will be missd

  So I walk all that long way back

  Through the yawning Valleys

  Where horses is put in harness

  Cows is brought in pails is emptid

  Dogs bark children run to get milk

  All unknowing

  I make good progress stride well

  Keep my head up my lips pressd tight

  Yet the inside of me is teard out

  MOUNT VERNON

  This now tis enough

  My ink does run dry

  Have writ all I can

  Am too tird to go on

  That were the end of my life

  Oh that it were true

  I spend now the afternoon outside

  The ovr growd garden of this Mount Vernon

  In the extremity of heat

  Warm well my old bones

  There amidst all the crowding green

  Find some treasure moments of peace

  Later as the sun spreads wide and colours

  All the horizon like fields of golden flowrs

  I get up go in the house

  Needing some water to drink

  Soon as I come in the door

  I know someone other also

  Has enterd this place

  I feel a disturbance in the air

  Twill be the boy I think

  Sure enough as I go down the kitchen

  I see him there putting out on the table

  Bread eggs and milk

  Though now the boy does look at me in fear

  I think then for the first time

  How all this world must look to he

  This fine house running now all to ruin

  This old crone the only one to care

  Small and stoopd not much bigger than he

  Thin as twine

  For so I am

  Come come I say to calm his fritcheting

  Will you not take some milk yrself

  He shakes then his dark head

  Holds one sapling arm with the other

  His head shaggy with black curls

  Mouth wide and ripe lips

  Always near to laughter

  That same look I know so well

  Also bold now it seem

  For sudden he does say

  Mrs may I ask you a question

  Course you may boy say I

  Taking out a cup for milk

  I shall have some even if he not

  So as I pour the milk he say as he must

  Is it true you can remember

  The revolutionary Mr Ned Cottrell

  The name drops into the room gently

  Yet it seems to echo long

  For I am told the boy says

  Still twisting his arms but speaking bold

  His brother does now live in this house

  Who tell you this I say

  My hand not steady with the jug

  My father say it but also boys at school

  Tis talkd of sometimes all he did

  Aye aye I say I do remember he

  I realize then I should say more

  The boy does expect it

  He wants a tale to tell in the school yard

  Yet what else is there to say

  The silence does unnerve the boy

  So he says thankee v much

  Turns toward the kitchen steps

  Thankee he says again

  I shall come back afore too long

  Then he is gone and I am sad

  I should have said more

  For what does it matter what he knows

  What he believes

  The story he has heard has become true

  Twas all so long ago

  I drink the milk put down the cup

  He meant no harm yet his question

  Has set my mind tumbling again

  Hear again my Masters voice

  Whatevr guilt there is

  You have yr share in it

  All would have been well

  If only you had been loyal

  Is that not true Mary Ann

  Is it not true

  Look in upon him now

  Firm in sleep still lost

  I am glad of it

  Oh Mr Ned Cottrell the famous revolutionary

  Saviour of many and engine of progress

  Perhaps they do say

  That he was a hero

  Maybe they are not wrong

  Yet what of the others

  What of the costs

  Those are the stories history never writes

  Only the pressing onwards stride of progress

  So tis understood

  What of those who blockd the forward way

  Whose struggles came to naught

  Who fought on the side of defeat

  Who will evr speak for them

  When will their voices be heard

  STOCTON HILL

  After she has gone

  I care not what happen to me

  I am finishd with

  My life done

  Or so I think

  Such are the passions of the young

  I come close a beating that first morning

  Mr Birch Nazareth does want me beat

  So he says to Mr Harland Cottrell

  You fool Mr Birch Nazareth say to me

  Maybe you think to help but you shall see

  Now you watch the way the world unfurl

  You are but the ruin of she

  Yet Mr Harland Cottrell not beat me

  Nay nay he say

  Mary Ann God Bless her soul

  She has barely the sense of a dog

  If someone tell her to do something

  So she does it

  Nettie also say to Mr Birch Nazareth

  She is but a simple girl

  You cannot blame such as she

  Tis well known not just her face is wrong

  So she makes various obscene hand signs

  All to imply I am but an imbecile

  I do not care

  Even if they beat me it means nothing

  Part of me should like a beating

  One pain might kill another

  So I think

  All round make false report of Lucetta

  Call her a slany Jezebel strumpet

  Flowsing hussy trollop

  The flight she make taked as evidence of guilt

  Soon it be widely agreed

  We are best done with her

  I keep my mouth tight shut

  Feel the poison of their spite

  Deep within me

  So the days toil on

  Light dark pull heavy one after tother

  Like a plough sticks in mud

  That zummer never does come good

  The rain keep a coming

  As the wind does piffle and whistle

  Tear down all is plantd

  What will winter bring

  I do not care It suits my mood

  Yet in all this the worst is Master Ned

  He is a sight you cannot believe

  Meeking he goes and palely weeping

  Oft takd sick with fever

  Maybe even a true fever this

  Who can know

  His father say his heart is brokd

  Others say also Aye aye she did play with he

  Tis the sickness of love

  Oft I am in his room taking water tending fire

  He says to me he cannot live without her

  That he must go and find her

  What can I say

  At first I take no notice of he

  So tight am I with anger

  Yet the more I see him

  How weak he is how hurt and pale

  I do begin to wonder

  Does he really feel what I feel

  Did he really love her so

  When I see him I think it could be true

  But it cannot be

  No no it cannot

  For he was the one did blacken her name

  He did destroy her and yet now

  Calls out for her in the night

  Tis beyond what I can understand

  But twas evr so with he

  The winter come in and strike the land hard

  Though tis but October snow come down

  So it stay for many long days

  Even the stream at the bottom

  Is only a thin trickle

  Running through blocks of ice

  The land still white silent aching

  All move slow the blood throbbing sore

  In hands and feet

  Nettie is took sick her bellers filld up

  Coughing and coughing

  No chance to sleep

  Mr Harland Cottrell cannot get out

  For he is feard to go down on the ice

  So only I must carry on

  Breaking the ice from the paths

  Carrying wood to keep the fire alight

  No money now for beeswax candles

  Only tallow made of hog

  Which fills the house

  Devil smelling thick black smog

  Settles heavy in the lung

  We are all famishd

  There is only bread made from barley

  Sour hard eat with pairy cheese

  Maybe a dunch dumpling if you lucky

  Mr Birch Nazareth bring not now the meat he did

  For he also is takd hard

  Tis generally thought he is a man

  Who has never had wife or family of his own

  Yet Lucetta had tell privily

  This is not so

  He was marrid when he was young

  His wife takd in child birth but one year on

  The child also

  So Lucetta she did give him much joy

  Always a jug with field daisies on the table

  The linen kept white crisp the winders shining

  No doubt he did look to see her wed

  Grandchilders to play round his hearth

  Now twill not be so

  Tis clear who Mr Birch Nazareth blame for this

  For now he never speak a word to Master Ned

  If Nettie or I mention his name

  He does growl and shake his head

  Yet at this time tis only Master Ned

  Who does help keep our spirits living

  For he is now a little recoverd

  Setting up a girt complaint

  For the changes in the Poor Law

  Tis most unjust

  For none is meant to take food out

  Any who wants assistance

  Must go in the Workhouse

  Families all split up

  But Master Ned and some other defy this law

  Even Mr Harland Cottrell agree this is right

  For why can they not be givd bread

  In their own homes

  So so the talk goes on but I not listen much

  Instead I stand oft in the garden

  Stare cross to the place last I last saw her

  Though tis too far to see

  All is clothd in white mist thick as smoke

  Only the darker lines where the trees are

  Above the skye stretch up to eternity

  No mercy to be found in it

  Spring eternally come slow and damp

  The fields still brim full of water

  The sun too weak to soak up

  More and more is the talk of a strike

  It must come

  All say what a mystery tis the clothiers

  Why are they not afeard

  Do they not know what happend in France

  Soon all their slicd and bloody heads

  Be pild up in baskets

  I do not like such talk

  In the end the strike never does come

  Instead machines one night are brokd up

  It happens at several mills up the Valleys

  Pitchcombe Rock being two

  The v next day the constables

  Do come to the house and ask for Master Ned

  Mr Harland Cottrell is away from home

  But mercy Mr Birch Nazareth is with us

  He go out to them for Nettie and me

  We are much afeard

  I do not know what is said

  I am sure Mr Birch Nazareth

  Never tell Mr Harland Cottrell their visit

  So so say Nettie Look now what comes to he

  Who was always intend for some higher purpose

  So sneers she

  That evening we hear more

  For Ambrose does come to sit in the kitchen

  Tells us straight how he did mention Master Ned

  To the constables

  This does shock me deep

  Though I cannot say he has done wrong

  Ambrose say he was left with no choice

  Master Ned his tongue will stir up ignorant

  Yet he will vanish soon as dust

  They like sheep follow one after the other

  Ovr the edge of the cliff

  Also though he does not say this

  Ambrose now is in a yet higher position

  Having excellent skills in all manner of carpentry

  Such is needed for the maintenance

  Of the many carding and spinning machines

  So must shew his loyalty to Mr Fluck

  I do not criticize he for it

  For he always has time for Nettie and me

  The next day Master Ned announces

  He is leaving for Bristol

  Has got a new job there

  I do not know whether all this

  Is but the weaving together of circumstance

  Or whether there is more to know

  Soon after several is arrestd one transportd

  Others is on the burster at Horsley

  Yet tis important to record

  At several mills at this time wages are raisd

  So tis not true to say it were all for naught

  Mr Harland Cottrell in his oft perversity

  Take Master Neds departure as good news

  I also am glad to see him go

  Pack his things in a bag

  Say naught as he leaves

  Yet after he has gone I find myself sorry

  Only because the house is even quieter

  Just me and Nettie sometimes Mr Birch Nazareth

  Other people have some grip on life

  Yet it flows past me

  And I watch

  That is all

  Then a message come for me

  A letter arrive to the George

  I go to fetch it

  I hold it in my hands a long time

  Afore I am able to open it

  I have never had a letter afore

  In the letter Lucetta says how she has a job now

  Is an assistant teacher share a room

  With another such

  I hate her for it

  So her life goes on and mine does not

  Soon she will call that other teacher

  Sister dear sister as once she call me

  That other teacher will brush her hair

  As once I did

  Soon as I think it I hate myself

  I am glad she is happily settld

  The cold still biting even as April enters

  Then come three days of storms

  Battering raging and tearing

  Pull up several ancient oaks

  Tear roots deep from the soil

  Which were not so bad

  As one of the chimbleys at Stocton Hill

  Blew half off

  The stones spread cross the garden

  What fortune no one was killd

  Tis just after I finish to clear the stones

  That I happens to meet Ambrose

  Ah ah Mary Ann he say to me

  I am sorry to see you look so poor

  I suppose so I do look

  What with the want of vittels

  But that is all his sympathy afore he say

  What can I say to you though

  You will stay here

  Though there is no life for you

  You know it well

  Why you not look to yr own affairs

  Ambrose has said many such ovr several years

  Usually I do not listen

  Now his words do join my own questions

  I begin to think on it

  You can go to Pitchcombe he say

  I will find work for you there Mary Ann

  There are places you can live

 

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