Every year, when I was growing up, we used to visit the same holiday cottage in Wales. And there, every year, I would rediscover two poetry landmarks, remembers Janet Phillips. One was a poem carved into a large, smooth slab of slate that served as a table in the garden of a semi-derelict house set high up on the hill over the village. Another was a lampshade inside the cottage, on which had been painted excerpts from well-known poems, accompanied by delicate illustrations. This was my first... more