And Now, Dear Lord, I

What The Londoner Sees In His Mind's Eye Is That Cluster Of Towers And Pinnacles Seen From Pentonville Hill And Outlined Against A Foggy Sunset, And The Great Arc Of Barlow's Train Shed Gaping To Devour Incoming Engines, And The Sudden Burst Of Exuberant Gothic Of The Hotel Seen From Gloomy Judd Street.

Lovers Of Norfolk Churches Can Never Agree Which Is The Best And I Think One Is Either A Salle Or A Cawston Man.

Imprisoned In A Cage Of Sound, Even The Trivial Seems Profound

One Mark Of Good Verse Is Surprise

I Am Still Reeling With Delight At The Soaring Majesty Of Norfolk.