I always dreamt
of beautiful meadows,
with a lonely lass,
where daffodils bloomed
and made a wordsmith
of an ordinary Wordsworth.
Idyllic life of Hardy’s
Partly real, partly dream country,
Of mansions like
With long parks and huge gates,
Of castles and cathedrals.
To feel the ground beneath the bard’s feet
Going thereon to Stratsford- upon
To see the resting place of legends,
Poet’s corner in Westminster Abbey,
Newton, Darwin and Chaucer lay.
Feel the prehistoric wonder of the world,
Like Tess lying at
The currents of
keep me company,
And Big Ben the silent witness,
Trafalgar square, the throbbing heart,
the buzz of
the post –modern London Eye
impact me to give one of the seats,
to make me a woman of letters
and to expert from the natives,to dot the I’s and cross the T’s.
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