Posted by Admin on Thursday, 7th February 2008, 00:00
Within the boundless range of poet’s pen,
the World, nay Universe may captive lie;
all wisdom, truth or beauty sought by men
may emanate when measured pen I ply.
The secrets dread of Space and Time as told
in tomes by erudition long compiled,
or blazoned when nocturnal skies unfold
those astral forms by Solar might exiled.
Shall I now write of Science, Music, Art
fair Nature’s subtle mysteries of Life
the beauty of some downland scene apart
or bosky lane with bole and blossom rife
alas! A spell now holds my mind in fee
and thought no other subject holds but thee.
T. C. Hudson
1941
© T. C. Hudson.
Village
Parish Council