In this memorable and much anthologised poem, Alastair Reid combines lyricism (how fine his larks are) and humour with a devastating tilt at the Calvinistic disposition.

The piece originally appeared in the author's collection, Weathering (Canongate, 1978).

SCOTLAND

It was a day peculiar to this piece of the planet,

when larks rose on long thin strings of singing

and the air shifted with the shimmer of actual angels.

Greenness entered the body. The grasses

Shivered with presences, and sunlight

stayed like a halo on hair and heather and hills.

Walking into town, I saw, in a radiant raincoat,

the woman from the fish-shop. 'What a day it is!'

cried I, like a sunstruck madman.

And what did she have to say for it?

Her brow grew bleak, her ancestors raged in their graves

as she spoke with their ancient misery:

'We'll pay for it, we'll pay for it, we'll pay for it!'