Too many people in the modern world view poetry as a luxury, not a necessity like petrol. But to me it's the oil of life.

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.

Oh Wasn't it naughty of Smudges? Oh, Mummy, I'm sick with disgust. She threww me in front of the judges, And my silly old collar-bone's bust.

Too many people in the modern world view poetry as a luxury, not a necessity like petrol. But to me it's the oil of life.

And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait Because I have a luncheon date.

I am still reeling with delight at the soaring majesty of Norfolk.

I don't think I am any good. If I thought I was any good, I wouldn't be.