Now If The Harvest Is

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

Now If The Harvest Is Over, And The World Cold, Give Me The Bonus Of Laughter, As I Lose Hold.

And London Shops On Christmas Eve Are Strung With Silver Bells And Flowers As Hurrying Clerks The City Leave To Pigeon-haunted Classic Towers, And Marbled Clouds Go Scudding By The Many-steepled London Sky

Norfolk Would Not Be Norfolk Without A Church Tower On The Horizon Or Round A Corner Up A Lane. We Cannot Spare A Single Norfolk Church. When A Church Has Been Pulled Down The Country Seems Empty Or Is Like A Necklace With A Jewel Missing.

Topography Is One Of My Chief Themes In My Poetry, About The Country, The Suburbs And The Seaside. Then There Comes Love... And Increasingly; The Fear Of Death.