Gaily into Ruislip Gardens Runs the red electric train, With a thousand Ta’s and Pardon’s Daintily alights Elaine; Hurries down the concrete station

Golden haired and golden hearted I would ever have you be, As you were when last we parted Smiling slow and sad at me. Oh! the fighting down of passion!

How straight it flew, how long it… It clear’d the rutty track And soaring, disappeared from view Beyond the bunker’s back - A glorious, sailing, bounding driv…

Across the wet November night The church is bright with candleli… And waiting Evensong. A single bell with plaintive strok… Pleads louder than the stirring oa…

Up the ash tree climbs the ivy, Up the ivy climbs the sun, With a twenty-thousand pattering, Has a valley breeze begun, Feathery ash, neglected elder,

I made hay while the sun shone. My work sold. Now, if the harvest is over And the world cold, Give me the bonus of laughter

Cut down that timber! Bells, too… Pouring their music through the br… From moon-white church-towers down… Have pealed the centuries out with… Remove those cottages, a huddled t…

Walking from school is a consummat… Which route to follow to avoid the… Which paths to find that lead, cir… To leafy squirrel haunts and plopp… For dreams of Archibald and Tiger…

A man on his own in a car Is revenging himself on his wife; He open the throttle and bubbles w… And puffs at his pitiful life She’s losing her looks very fast,

At the end of a long-walled garden… A brick path led to a mulberry– sc… I lay under blackening branches wh… Sheltering ruby fruit globes from… Apple and plum espaliers basked up…

The kind old face, the egg-shaped… The tie, discretely loud, The loosely fitting shooting cloth… A closely fitting shroud. He liked old city dining rooms,

In the licorice fields at Pontefr… My love and I did meet And many a burdened licorice bush Was blooming round our feet; Red hair she had and golden skin,

Encase your legs in nylons, Bestride your hills with pylons O age without a soul; Away with gentle willows And all the elmy billows

Hark, I hear the bells of Westgat… I will tell you what they sigh, Where those minarets and steeples Prick the open Thanet sky. Happy bells of eighteen-ninety,

Kind o’er the kinderbank leans my… White o’er the playpen the sheen o… Fresh from the bathroom and soft i… Soap scented fingers I long to ca… Were you a prefect and head of you…