Canterbury.

There are things we've seen that we can't forget,
Seen only once, we remember yet—
With you, is it Mona Lisa's eyes,
Or the evening fogs from the Thames that rise,
Or a grotesque Buddha,
A trip to Bermuda,
Glasgow, Cairo or quaint Thibet?
To Canterbury my memory clings;
And these above all other things—
The snow-capped Alps, the sweeping plain,
The rivers I crossed in the south-bound train,
Where great trout leap—
The prosperous sheep,
Haystacks, pine trees and trickling springs.

page 28

—M. Wigley.