Old Town Elegy
OLD TOWN ELEGY
The bridge still spans the road - with what design?
The rail that once crossed Ridgeway and vale to the sea
Erased and gone, with scarce residual sign
And barely more trace than near roads of Roman decree
From the bridge, track the ghosts of line, goods yard, Old Town Station
Where we lingered and noted the numbers of each passing train
Web of steel and of steam entwined village and town across nation
'Til Arcadian slow lines were suddenly made to wain
Gone: the Market where cows sheep and pigs brought in telling perceptions
The images, noises and smells of the farms to the town
The tweeded farmers with leathery limbs and complexions
And gaiters of deepest sheen in a rich chestnut brown
Flaxen ropes, billhooks, pitchforks enough for a peasants' uprising
Spread along the High street and over the Corn Exchange square
While Newport Street furnished inns for all thirsts' reviving
And above all, the clock tower made skyline iconic and fair
Then was school run not cosseted, chauffeured, by car
But raced, skipped or dawdled through field, street, market and station
Our little world teamed with action, unscreened, with no bar
Of health and safety; adventure without filtration
In that world we seemed in different incarnation
Are we the same people, and do we now view the same place?
Can we yet discern immortality's intimation?
The adventure goes on though perhaps at a difference pace.
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