Imprisoned In A Cage Of Sound, Even

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

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.

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

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.

Approval Of What Is Approved Of Is As False As A Well-kept Vow.