[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.