Bird-watching colonels on the old… Down here at Dawlish where the sl… Low tide lifting, on a shingle sho… Long-sunk islands from the sea onc… Red cliffs rising where the wet sa…

This is the time of day when we in… Think “one more surge of the pain… When he who struggles for breath c… This is the time of day which is w… A haze of thunder hangs on the hos…

From Bermondsey to Wandsworth So many churches are, Some with apsidal chancels, Some Perpendicular And schools by E.R. Robson

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…

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…

In among the silver birches, Winding ways of tarmac wander And the signs to Bussock Bottom, Tussock Wood and Windy Break. Gabled lodges, tile-hung churches

Bells are booming down the bohreen… White the mist along the grass, Now the Julias, Maeves and Maure… Move between the fields to Mass. Twisted trees of small green apple

The heavy mahogany door with its w… Shuts. And the sound is rich, sym… The sun still shines on this eight… With Edwardian faience adornment—… No hope. And the X-ray photograph…

We used to picnic where the thrift Grew deep and tufted to the edge; We saw the yellow foam flakes drif… In trembling sponges on the ledge Below us, till the wind would lift

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 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…

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…

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

Let me take this other glove off As the vox humana swells, And the beauteous fields of Eden Bask beneath the Abbey bells. Here, where England’s statesmen l…

The sort of girl I like to see Smiles down from her great height… She stands in strong, athletic pos… And wrinkles her retroussé nose. Is it distaste that makes her frow…