Hymns Are The Poetry Of The People.

Ludlow....is Probably The Loveliest Town In England With Its Hill Of Georgian Houses Ascending From The River Teme To The Great Tower Of The Cross-shaped Church, Rising Behind A Classic Market Building.

Childhood Is Measured Out By Sounds And Smells And Sights, Before The Dark Hour Of Reason Grows.

I Don't Think I Am Any Good. If I Thought I Was Any Good, I Wouldn't Be.

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!

It's Strange That Those We Miss The Most Are Those We Take For Granted.