Coun­try Lane

The People's Friend Special - - CONTENTS -

by Dennis W. Turner

The lane winds on, now bent, now straight; Who set its bear­ing no-one knows. It much prefers to de­vi­ate Where hills in­trude or wa­ter flows. A twisted route that some­one chose Long since, I now ne­go­ti­ate. I trace the hedge where hawthorn grows; The lane winds on, now bent, now straight. The corners, crooks and curves cre­ate New vis­tas glimpsed be­tween hedgerows. Now we can only spec­u­late; Who set its bear­ing, no-one knows. Three miles in one, and so it goes, Past wall and wood and farmer’s gate. Its twist­ing, tor­tured na­ture shows It much prefers to de­vi­ate. The strange me­an­ders in­di­cate The way in which the track arose; The fea­tures of the land dic­tate Where hills in­trude or wa­ter flows. The lane winds on . . .

– Dennis W. Turner.

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