[ai] mild [ɪ] its [ʌ/ ʊ] dug * [ɒ] pods * [i:] peat * [əʊ] go * [e/ eə:] except *
[ɑ:] dark * [ei] name [ɜː] girdle * [ʊə/ u/ u:] to * [au] brown * [æ] cap *
[ɔː/ ɔɪ ] lawn
TheTollund Man
I
Some
day
I
will
go
to
Aarhus
To
see
his
peat-brown
head,
The mild
pods
of
his
eye-lid,
His
pointed
skin
cap.
In
the flat
country
nearby
Where
they
dug
him
out,
His
last
gruel
of winter
seeds
Caked
in
his
stomach,
Naked except for
The
cap,
noose
and
girdle,
I
will stand
a
long
time.
Bridegroom
to
the goddess,
She
tightened
her
torc
on
him
And opened
her
fen,
Those
dark
juices
working
Him
to
a saint's
kept
body,
Trove
of
the turfcutters'
Honeycombed
workings.
Now
his
stained
face
Reposes
at Aarhus.
II.
I
could
risk
blasphemy,
Consecrate
the cauldron
bog
Our
holy
ground
and
pray
Him
to
make
germinate
The
scattered,
ambushed
FIesh
of
labourers,
Stockinged
corpses
Laid out in the farmyards,
Tell-tale
skin
and
teeth
Flecking
the sleepers
Of
four
young
brothers,
trailed
For
miles
along
the
line
.
III
Something
of
his sad
freedom
As
he
rode
the
tumbril
Should
come
to me,
driving,
Saying
the names
Tollund,
Grauballe,
Nebelgard,
Watching
the pointing
hands
Of
country
people,
Not knowing their tongue.
Out there in Jutland
In
the old
man-killing
parishes
I will
feel
lost,
Unhappy and at home.