The complete poems Book

This is really a review of Bunting's long poem "Briggflatts" disguised as a review of this book in which it can be found. Bunting was a great poet whose poems are all worth reading, but "Briggflatts" was his masterpiece. It's like Eliot's "Wasteland" if Eliot had not been a snob, or like his "Four Quartets" without the religion. It's like Pound's Cantos if Pound hadn't been a little nuts. (Note: I love all those other poets and poems, too. I just like “Briggflatts” best.)

Here's the opening stanza of this very musical and earthy poem. If you have any trouble at all following it, try speaking it aloud.

Brag, sweet tenor bull,
descant on Rawthey’s madrigal,
each pebble its part
for the fells’ late spring.
Dance tiptoe, bull,
black against may.
Ridiculous and lovely
chase hurdling shadows
morning into noon.
May on the bull’s hide
and through the dale
furrows fill with may,
paving the slowworm’s way.

You can read more about "Briggflatts" in this slightly longer introduction to the poem.