And Now, Dear Lord, I Cannot Wait

And Behind Their Frail Partitions Business Women Lie And Soak, Seeing Through The Draughty Skylight Flying Clouds And Railway Smoke. Rest You There, Poor Unbelov'd Ones, Lap Your Loneliness In Heat, All Too Soon The Tiny Breakfast, Trolley-bus And Windy Street!

Lord, Reserve For Me A Crown, And Do Not Let My Shares Go Down.

Too Many People In The Modern World View Poetry As A Luxury, Not A Necessity Like Petrol. But To Me It's The Oil Of Life.

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

I Ought To Warn You That My Verse Is Of No Interest To People Who Can Think.