I Find Cambridge An Asylum, In Every

Oh When I Was In Love With You, Then I Was Clean And Brave, And Miles Around The Wonder Grew How Well Did I Behave. And Now The Fancy Passes By, And Nothing Will Remain, And Miles Around They'll Say That I Am Quite Myself Again.

On Occasions, After Drinking A Pint Of Beer At Luncheon, There Would Be A Flow Into My Mind With Sudden And Unaccountable Emotion, Sometimes A Line Or Two Of Verse, Sometimes A Whole Stanza, Accompanied, Not Preceded By A Vague Notion Of The Poem Which They Were Destined To Form A Part Of.... I Say Bubble Up Because, So Far As I Could Make Out, The Source Of The Suggestions Thus Proffered To The Brain Was The Pit Of The Stomach.

Nature, Not Content With Denying Him The Ability To Think, Has Endowed Him With The Ability To Write.

Clay Lies Still, But Blood's A Rover; Breath's Aware That Will Not Keep. Up, Lad: When The Journey's Over Then There'll Be Time Enough To Sleep.

Give Me A Land Of Boughs In Leaf A Land Of Trees That Stand; Where Trees Are Fallen There Is Grief; I Love No Leafless Land.