Bread and Circuses

Chapter 68: VII

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About This Book

A lyrical collection of short poems ranges from quiet country scenes and childhood memories to urban sketches and religious reflections. The poet renders streams, gardens, market sellers, and domestic interiors in close sensory detail while pairing everyday observation with moral and spiritual meditation. Animal vignettes and playful pieces for children sit alongside elegies, prayers, and ironic portraits of modern life, producing tones of humour, tenderness, and solemnity. Varied forms and concise portraits move between pastoral lanes, London streets, and intimate household moments while attending to time, sorrow, and faith.

VII

This said, he rose, and sought with feeble pace, For he was stiff and sore, the Market Place; Where, without horses and their shafts turned down, Are ranged the carts that come into the town; Until at dusk, all loaded up, they’re gone. He found the cart that went to Clarendon. Beneath it lay a yellow dog who shook His brazen collar, but his churlish look Passed off when Jocko hailed the man inside Who, loading parcels and not looking, cried,— “We start in Butcher Row, sir, from the Bear. At four o’clock.” Said Jocko “I’ll be there.”