A Letter From the Trenches to a School Friend

Far underneath the Ogbourne twins,

And at my feet the thyme and whins,

The grasses with their little crowns

Of gold, the lovely Aldbourne downs,

And that old signpost (well I knew

That crazy signpost, arms askew,

Old mother of the four grass ways).

And then my mouth is dumb with praise,

For, past the wood and chalkpit tiny,

A glimpse of Marlborough —!

So I descend beneath the rail

To warmth and welcome and wassail.