In the foreground is the brook, the Tamar

not far from its source, deep woods on either side

and close, almost a canopy of shade.

A young woman has crossed. She is barefoot,

still holds up her skirts as if drying them.

She has turned to a mastiff that has stopped

in mid-stream. Another young woman,

her companion presumably, is resting

on the other bank, next to a white bundle.

Some ten yards or so behind her is a cave.

 

***

 

In the middle-ground is an aqueduct

or viaduct as if this were Provence:

the artist’s invention to draw the eye,

to bridge the canvas, to evoke the mood.

And his vision – for a hundred years later

in Calstock downstream a railway viaduct

was built to trundle ore from the tin mines

down to the navy yards at Devonport.

 

Turner, from his travels in the West Country

at the new century’s start, painted,

in an eighteenth century French style,

this oil of the Tamar Valley in summer.

The painting was exhibited first

the year of the Battle of Waterloo:

a sort of English landscape to celebrate

what was a sort of English victory.

We can almost but not quite see the sea,

and imagine Plymouth, the Sound, and folk

strolling complacently on the Hoe –

the ships of the line, sails furled, at anchor.

 

***

 

The  dog will continue to stand its ground,

woofing for frolics. The exhausted friend

will still silently refuse to move. The barking

and the young woman’s teasing laughter

will echo from the cave.