Dr. Radcliffe’s Camera
Christopher Bogart
Circular sentinel,
Pride of the Oxford dons,
Surrounded by spears of medieval gray –
Stone spires whose Gothic prisms
Counterpoint its broad round shape.
Smiling cylinder
Of beaming honey stone,
Ornamented by memories of
Greek and Roman pasts and
Sentinel now
Of my solitude,
Protecting my peace.
Looming giant,
Whose massive shape
Invades the sky, deep blue,
Rounding up great clouds
To circle ‘round
In a dizzying parade.
A wonder to the thousands
Who come and see…
Of my pain in leaving you,
And of visions of a life to come,
What can you see
For me?
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