I headed for the Botticellis ...

Crossing Fountain Court, I thought that I was in Italy - 

I could have been idling, on my way to a palazzo, a copy of The Pisan Cantos in my pocket - 

I pictured myself, gazing at my reflection in a faded mirror - musicians were playing viols in a candlelit ballroom - 

Frederick Rolfe would be skulking in a shadowy piazetta - 

*

Noble galleries overlooked the courtyard I stood in - 

Slender girls sat at wrought iron cafe tables - 

All around me was the neo classical palace - 

I gathered my coat about me, and headed for the Botticellis - 

13.13

Thursday 17 March 2016

Somerset House

London