Horizons

Where are the cows,
In the pastureland.
The feeding ewes,
In a circling band.

The noisy cocks,
At dawn's grey light.
The pheasant parade,
The wild-ducks flight.

Where are the lanes,
With perfume...I know.
The blackbird song,
In the marshes below.

The tangled growths,
Where thickets entwine.
All patterned in fields,
Of checkered design.

Where are the landscapes,
Dressed to astound.
Now rising with villages,
On acres of ground.

The lull in nature,
Is a country-side pity.
Clutched in the arms,
Of a growing city.

E.P. 1908 - 1989