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,

From the geyser ventilators Autumn winds are blowing down On a thousand business women Having baths in Camden Town Waste pipes chuckle into runnels,

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…

Highbridge wharf your hopes have d… They float like driftwood down the… Out, out into the open sea Oh, sad, forgotten S and D

I remember the dread with which I… Let go with a bang behind me our h… And, clutching a present for my de… Sailed out for the children’s part… Or rather the gathering night. Fo…

Dr Ramsden cannot read The Times… He’s dead. Let monographs on silk worms by ot… Thrown away Unread

The bells of waiting Advent ring, The Tortoise stove is lit again And lamp-oil light across the nigh… Has caught the streaks of winter r… In many a stained-glass window she…

When melancholy Autumn comes to W… And electric trains are lighted af… The poplars near the stadium are t… With their tap and tap and whisper… Like the sound of little breakers

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,

The flag that hung half-mast today Seemed animate with being As if it knew for who it flew And will no more be seeing. He loved each corner of the links–

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 first-class brains of a senior… Shiver and shatter and fall As the steering column of his comf… Batters in the bony wall. All those delicate re-adjustments

Phone for the fish knives, Norman As cook is a little unnerved; You kiddies have crumpled the serv… And I must have things daintily s… Are the requisites all in the toil…

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…

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