There's Little Comfort In The Wise

There Are Only Three Things In The World, One Is To Read Poetry, Another Is To Write Poetry, And The Best Of All Is To Live Poetry.

And In That Heaven Of All Their Wish, There Shall Be No More Land, Say Fish

I Have A Thousand Images Of You In An Hour; All Different And All Coming Back To The Same. I Think Of You Once Against A Sky Line: And On The Hill That Sunday Morning. The Light And The Shadow And Quietness And The Rain And The Wood. And You. Your Arms And Lips And Hair And Shoulders And Voice - You.

.. . . Would I Were In Grantchester, In Grantchester!

Store Up Reservoirs Of Calm And Content And Draw On Them At Later Moments When The Source Isn't There, But The Need Is Very Great.