After Paper Castles and Selected Letters by Horace Walpole
The poem responds to Paper Castle, a contemporary art exhibition at Strawberry Hill House, Twickenham. The poem borrows some of its wording from the titles of installations, paintings and sculptural works by artists David Begbie, Tim Etchells, Eva Fisahn, Manuel Aleja.
I wish to write, and please remember
as my friend, myself as sender
you belong, a circle member
of secrets here, and so much more
to tell you, I know exactly nothing
and pray only of blossoming great blessings
on your gracious self, from our loving
blessed Mary saint, adoring and adore
no bad angel and offend no good one
remember fruit and thy protectress I ask for
our Strawberry fortress cherished forevermore
So, once upon a sunlit splendour
while a Strawberry Sky so tender
did not rain a drop to cool the tip down
of any green past the hill house door
while I worked away inside improving
aspects of the South Sea tide producing
numbers on my mathematician’s ruler moving
Twickenham earth and fire and so much more
inside the hallowed walls of straw castle
locked up behind my measured door
compiling figures and not much more
For months the sky would not surrender
a drop of dew or whisper of tender
rain to quench the strawberries of fruit hill
or any green past hill house door
but on my walk with mathematicians ruling
faithfully inside my pocket cooling
from the constant heat of my hand fooling
the impressive mind and seeking to
mandleblot out the very sun and more
the representatives of moon and stars came to my very door
And so it goes, the ghost objects in glowing form
floated first Cross Road to perform,
accompanied by brazen trumpet,
which made me shake with great violence for
at Cross Deep the ghosts were skimming,
at the Barons I heard them singing
on Marble Hill the lights were dimming
with fear of usurp and ravish and great threat
and yet, this spirits alter was much more
than disturbed suspects of villianmore
And so I ran down Tower Road so dreary
and I ran until till weak and weary
but spirits tripped the light fantastic
as graceless I approached hill house door,
over Vale the ghosts were skimming,
on the Thames I heard them singing
on Strawberry Hill the lights were dimming
and as my hand felt the handle of the heavy door
the ghosts were blowing gently at the cardboard castle
imploring and requested me to speak for
them, and there was this and so much more
And so it goes, the ghost objects in angelic form
for as they gathered hence to perform
and I feared the fear of some infernal symmetry
for in me the mathematician deduced some a priori
de facto and yet this fallacy was no match for
a prima facie sight before sore eyes trying
to debate the honoured virtue of these flying
heaven’s angels intercession while communing
many moments for my magificat concession or
confession that they truly were just so much more
So, with account for formal theory
I’ll describe their ghostly fairy presence eerie
their wings were made of fabric metal rails,
of silver mesh and lime on glass and more
their neon wings were whitening
and copper painted brightening
their oils on canvas tightening
with cravat and clay and again, much more
they made my paper castle new
and known to no name unknown and more
and held the many keys to hill house door
And goes, to Iceangel, a second skin
Solangel, do not preach the sterile and begin:
with what heaven’s bright candles wore
sable plumes and long white dresses
their wings dusted with otherworldly iridescence
glowing thickly, as one whispers, and blesses
the thicket of sweet blossom hanging over the door
and with a great crack the heavens broke and rained
down with a sudden thunderous roar
drenching us, fairy ghosts hovering above very the floor
and here was this which cannot be destroyed and more
My friend, I left them open just for you, they said
of the heavens open rainy gate, they promised
and I too, to tell of this tale and more
of Paper Castles, obsidian, mirror, mesh and making
more of magic, more breathtaking
make paper miracles, said these angels requesting
for should we live a thousand lives or more
yonder window breaks for zeno, and the paradox of lore
make this gothic fairy castle tale anew forevermore
Find out more about Paper Castle here.
