One Mark Of Good Verse Is Surprise

A Whispering And Watery Norfolk Sound Telling Of All The Moonlit Reeds Around.

And Now, Dear Lord, I Cannot Wait Because I Have A Luncheon Date.

It's Strange That Those We Miss The Most Are Those We Take For Granted.

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.

Imprisoned In A Cage Of Sound, Even The Trivial Seems Profound