“You werewater to medeep and bold and fathoming' - Praise Song For My Mother by Charlotte Mew”

“You weremoon's eye to mepull and grained and mantling' - Praise Song For My Mother by Charlotte Mew”

“Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.No soldier's paid to kick against His powers.We laughed, knowing that better men would come,And greater wars: whe...”

“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.”

“It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.”