How did the Devil come? When first attack? <br /> These Norfolk lanes recall lost innocence, <br />The years fall off and find me walking back <br /> Dragging a stick along the wooden fence <br />Down this same path, where, forty years ago, <br />My father strolled behind me, calm and slow. <br /> <br />I used to fill my hands with sorrel seeds <br /> And shower him with them from the tops of the stiles, <br />I used to butt my head into his tweeds <br /> To make him hurry down those languorous miles <br />Of ash and alder-shaded lanes, till here <br />Our moorings and the masthead would appear. <br /> <br />There after supper lit by lantern light <br /> Warm in the cabin I could lie secure <br />And hear against the polished sides at night <br /> The lap lap lapping of the weedy Bure, <br />A whispering and watery Norfolk sound <br />Telling of all the moonlit reeds around. <br /> <br />How did the Devil come? When first attack? <br /> The church is just the same, though now I know <br />Fowler of Louth restored it. Time, bring back <br /> The rapturous ignorance of long ago, <br />The peace, before the dreadful daylight starts, <br />Of unkept promises and broken hearts.<br /><br />John Betjeman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/norfolk-2/
