Nostalgia
Sussex Coast
Hertfordshire Harvest
Away form it All
Long Distance Memories
Prep School Days
Bexhill-on-Sea
Mottingham
Palace Road SW2
Norfolk

Some Celebrations
May in Hyde Park
Ninetieth Birthday for F.E.P.L.
Sonnet 4 th June 2002
Tokyo Olympics 1964
Pageant at Pembroke Castle – 1958
Daffodil Rally
Sonnet – Royal Hospital Chelsea

Reflection
In Regents Park Tube Station
Night Watch
Modernisation
Question and Answer
Sonnet of Silence
Fourteen Years Fourteen Lines Treasure
Quest
April Love
Vicenza
Crown of Thorns
Dayspring
St. Madron
Patriciae

Last Post & Reveille
1940 Contrasts
Young Soldier 1942
Sandhurst 1943
Algeria 1943
San Martino (Montecieco) 1944
Fallen Enemy
Venezia Giulia 1945
Map References

Sunlight & Shadow
The Old Policeman
Prelude
The Leader
Armless Bandit
Morning Love
October in Swansea
Point-to-Point
Tiff in the Train
Kentish Vesper
The Minister
Princes Circus WC2
Desert Crow
Illusions
Summer Term
The Star
Friendship
Postwoman
Maria from St. Petersburg
The Execution of the Monterey Pine
Sunday Evensong – Worcester Cathedral

On & Off The Rails
Ticket Collector
Western Reverie
Standing Room Only
Night Scotsman
Electrification
Train Fever

When, yesterday, I saw your swelling corpse
And bloated face
Stiff in the ditch where, in retreat, they left you
With the flies
And stinking heat, I only thought the ditch
A fitting place
For such as you. And yesterday there stung
My grieving eyes
The ghastly image of my gallant
Mutilated friend,
Who’d challenged yours in this place they were
Fighting to defend.
You and your kind in Field green, I loathed
With all my hate
Of heart and mind. My loathing then was
Hard and passionate.
Today, I hope they’ll bury you; I know
You better now;
Your regiment, your name: I think
I even know the girl
You loved. Your fingers now in death’s convulsions
Tightly curl
Around your gun: mine found her picture.
Did she ever vow
To pray for you, to wait for you, to love you
Until death?
Death, here is your sting: Life, here the vapour
Of your shallow breath.

Maria from St. Petersberg

She glides about the Dining Room with lissom grace,
Her youthful elegance adorns her modest tasks:
Her smiling eyes make radiant her comely face.
What is our choice tonight? she asks

What does she really do, this charming Russian girl?
Apart from waiting on us here with quiet care.
Is she perhaps a student on a tourist whirl,
With all too little cash to spare?

See how she turned just then, when someone called her name;
It was a pirouette! Here may be the answer
To this our entertaining dining guessing game:
Surely she must be a dancer?

Oh No, she says, but smiles her thanks with shy delight.
She has a long term aim to run her own hotel.
She is a graduate but thinks it must be right
To learn all levels of the business well.

So this is what she does. St. Petersberg has sent
A young ambassadress whose presence will enhance
The courts of hotel management. But our lament
Is that we’ll never see Maria dance.