The Man with the Oiling-Can

IN ancient Essex once I saw an ancient man, Most motionless of men (By Tiptree, Tolleshunt Knights and Tolleshunt D’Arcy ran The ancient railway then), And in his wrinkled hand he held an oiling-can. It was at eventide, before the moon began Her slow, belated journey over heaven’s span; She did not rise till ten. … Continue reading The Man with the Oiling-Can


To Be Alive

This poem was read at the funeral of R. P. Lister earlier this year by a close friend, Meg Campbell. Sometime this year I shall be 95 And still it is a joy to be alive! To walk, to talk, to think, drink, to sneeze, Is there, my friends, a great joy than these? Sit … Continue reading To Be Alive