Sunday Walk Through Canterbury
Through the past, winding
Its housed streets do wend.
Apt then, as the year ages
Track down, while descend
Autumn, its charm-enhancers
Sunday romancers.
Air, whose mouldy tang
Appeals! Kerbed; wall-hung.
Faint hazed, whilst smokily breathe
That to Time's own clung
As wood burns, up and down there
Old world's atmosphere.
melbourne suburb
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