I have a Vision of the Future, chum. The workers flats in fields of soya beans tower up like silver pencils, score on score.

I ought to warn you that my verse is of no interest to people who can think.

I have a Vision of the Future, chum. The workers flats in fields of soya beans tower up like silver pencils, score on score.

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

Ludlow....is probably the loveliest town in England with its hill of Georgian houses ascending from the river Teme to the great tower of the cross-shaped church, rising behind a classic market building.

Topography is one of my chief themes in my poetry, about the country, the suburbs and the seaside. Then there comes love... and increasingly; the fear of death.

What the Londoner sees in his mind's eye is that cluster of towers and pinnacles seen from Pentonville Hill and outlined against a foggy sunset, and the great arc of Barlow's train shed gaping to devour incoming engines, and the sudden burst of exuberant Gothic of the hotel seen from gloomy Judd Street.