. https://www.youtube.com/watch?vq5FdfL8sVRM Like Abelard and Heloise Like Abelard and Heloise This woman has the gorgeous mind. Her touch of tenderness and ease Calms the ravages I find. Her cheeks are one dear downy bed For my sore heart to rest upon, And the sultry words she said Vanish but are never gone. The apples sink beneath the sea Despite a little space of youth. The air is sleeping on her knee And I am pining after truth. The fruitful ways of love I drink As silence breathes the melodies. And every way she dreams I think Like Abelard and Heloise. . . https://www.youtube.com/watch?vzkuLIsrLy2I You Don’t Cancel Yeats The air was loving me today She wrapped me in one long embrace And each direction was the way A child’s smile was on my face And as I walked with merry glee And clambered over stiles and gates This angry statement came to me, You don’t cancel Yeats. My heart was light as feathered snow My head was free and filled with hope My lovely lea was smiling too I let my greater thought have scope And I was gazing on the views Then I was thinking of the fates. But now I read they’ve got Ted Hughes. You don’t cancel Yeats. . . The Pastures of Arcadia In the avenue of sadness and the melancholy air I see the juveniles sink into a dark despair. The autumn leaves are peaceful, but gloom is in the eye Of the understanding lover as he hurries by. Darkened days approaching: be still, my heart, be still! Listen to the birdsong on yonder misty hill. You’re apt for contemplation; you needn’t dance with glee Or sing an exaltation beneath the apple tree. The leaves upon the ground are old and speak of silent death; The air around the mouth is a harsh and ghostly breath. And the mind is reminiscing, but never can it be; She’s gone, and I wonder if she ever lovéd me. I wonder, does she think of me, in the colder nights, And feel my warmth and tenderness as she turns out the lights? Does she see me smiling all along the Itchen Way? Am I still forgotten when the band begins to play? Be still, my heart, be still, and turn your wanderings To the pastures of Arcadia where the shepherd sings; His late autumnal evening is warm, for by his fire, He stirs a humble stew and relinquishes desire. __ __ Arthur L Wood is a poet from Hampshire in England. After studying drama at the University of Winchester he decided to focus on writing poetry. He now uploads recordings of the classics alongside original work to YouTube and maintains a presence across social media platforms. In 2020 Arthur self-published his first collection, Poems for Susan.