The wind rushing past me was monstrous wild <br />As I clambered to the top of the downs; <br />My feet were dirty and aching bad <br />When at last I reached the crown. <br /> <br />But what cared I for such trivial things <br />When such wonderful nature swept by me: <br />The trees and the grass blowing awry <br />In the boisterous spring wind, <br />Which ruffled my hair and made my face sting. <br /> <br />There was I, a solitary figure, <br />Alone on the top of the downs: <br />With all of the clouds astir <br />And far from any town - <br />The sea in the distance <br />A single grey line, <br />How I felt, how I saw those views <br />So fine. <br /> <br />I sat upon a hillock of springy green turf, <br />Saw the new buds on the trees; <br />And the whole of the world seemed full <br />Of new birth - then the wind <br />Suddenly dropped to a breeze. <br /> <br />The white chalk paths, so rough and stony, <br />Wound higher and higher up each hill, <br />And I sat and thought how good to be lonely, <br />And for a second all was still. <br /> <br />But I could not have it the way I wished, <br />The wind grew louder, the air more chill; <br />I saw a path, though knew not to where it lead, <br />But I walked and I walked and behind me <br /> <br />Everything once more was still. <br /> <br />. <br /> <br />(May 1955) <br />(Written after going for a walk on the Willingdon downs.)<br /><br />Philippa Lane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/escape-5/
