Friday 6 May 2016

Matthew Arnold's Lines on Dover and Forest Green

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
From far distant football ground
High above a Cotswold market town
Where wood and sward doth intertwine
In a resolute spring sylvan sign
That betokens ‘Victory!’
Not from Sherwood FOREST
In Lincoln GREEN,
With outlaws and poachers,
But from FOREST GREEN,
With goal-poachers,
Left wingers, Levellers, Diggers, Llamas,
The ghosts of handloom weavers,
Pedlars, tinkers, spinners of yarns,
Dale Vince’s capacious pockets,
Quorn pie, mash, peas,
Stroud Brewery ales …
Away fans might chant ditties such as
‘WE WANT MEAT, WE WANT MEAT’
And
‘PUB TEAM WITH MONEY,
YOU’RE JUST A PUB TEAM WITH MONEY’,
But as Fred Astaire so nimbly put it,
When dancing down the wing at Eastington
In top hat, white tie and tails:
‘Ha ha ha,
Who’s got the last laugh now?’


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