New like New.

Poem for Easter Sunday.

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A Cricket Sonnet (with tip of the Hat to John Keats)

Happy is England! I could be content To see no other pitches than its own; To feel no other breezes than are blown By her tall seamers with guileless bowling bent: Yet do I sometimes feel a languishment For wickets ‘Strine, and with inward groan Hunger for fields and Foes to test one’s own. Who’d… Continue reading A Cricket Sonnet (with tip of the Hat to John Keats)