The Arthur Rackham Winter


The Arthur Rackham winter’s given way to Mucha’s spring as
Fleetwood transforms into Venice. On the walls where ivy clings
The harshly scribbled branches have been fattened up with leaves,
And the barren gale distilled into a mellow, pregnant breeze.
For months this hibernating town’s been scrawled in lines of smoke.
Now it’s slowly being coloured vivid hues in bold, fat strokes.
Aubrey Beardsley streets turn Hockney and the Dostoyevsky town
Is once again Dickensian with shades of Arthur Brown.

24 responses to “The Arthur Rackham Winter

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