The gas was on in the Institute, The flare was up in the gym, A man was running a mineral line, A lass was singing a hymn, When Captain Webb the Dawley man…

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,

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

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…

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…

Here among long-discarded cassocks… Damp stools, and half-split open h… Here where the vicar never looks I nibble through old service books… Lean and alone I spend my days

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

Cocooned in Time, at this inhuman… The packaged food tastes neutrally… We never seem to catch the running… But travel on in everlasting night With all the chic accoutrements of…

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 did the Devil come? When firs… These Norfolk lanes recall lost i… The years fall off and find me wal… Dragging a stick along the wooden… Down this same path, where, forty…

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…

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

The clock is frozen in the tower, The thickening fog with sooty smel… Has blanketed the motor power Which turns the London streets to… And footsteps with their lonely so…

I am a young executive. No cuffs… I have a Slimline brief-case and… In every roadside hostelry from he… The maîtres d’hôtel all know me we… You ask me what it is I do. Well,…