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John Betjeman - NorfolkJohn Betjeman - Norfolk
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How did the Devil come? When first attack? These Norfolk lanes recall lost innocence, The years fall off and find me walking back Dragging a stick along the wooden fence Down this same path, where, forty years ago, My father strolled behind me, calm and slow. I used to fill my hands with sorrel seeds And shower him with them from the tops of stiles, I used to butt my head into his tweeds To make him hurry down those languorous miles Of ash and alder-shaded lanes, till here Our moorings and the masthead would appear. There after supper lit by lantern light Warm in the cabin I could lie secure And hear against the polished sides at night The lap lap lapping of the weedy Bure, A whispering and watery Norfolk sound Telling of all the moonlit reeds around. How did the Devil come? When first attack? The church is just the same, though now I know Fowler of Louth restored it. Time, bring back The rapturous ignorance of long ago, The peace, before the dreadful daylight starts, Of unkept promises and broken hearts.
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