Here is the jumping boy, the boy
who jumps as I speak.
He is at home on the king's highway,
in call of the tall house, its blind
gable end, the trees - I know this place.
The road on broad contourings drawn out of sight,
stops - wherever - but not at Lyonesse,
though from Lyonesse I shall bring you,
through grimmed orchards, across gorse-hummocked
old common had everywhere given back
to the future of memory.
Geoffrey Hill, Selected Poems, Penguin Books, 2006