I wish we were in Blythburgh again .

By the floodlit church on holy nights

The angels in the roof eternal, pure

A gift to eye and heart and mind and sight 

Down the river near to Southworld town 

The ferryman will row you in his boat. 

For just 10 shillings you can get across. 

Already in my purse I have some notes

We sat high on the harbour wall one day

Beside the marsh the footpath gave delight

You could hear the crickets’ wings and you could pray

Ahead was Southworld and its built delights

I see it now but in my own mind’s eye

For you are gone and I have said goodbye

You are smiling on the pier above the sands

The rippling waves stretchef out like children’s hands

You look so strong I cannot comprehend

Your fatal illness and its grievous end

You were never  patient on dry land

You were living well and  feeling grand

We crossed the road ; I held your cold thin hand

  I suffered so much torment,would I mend?

I saw a fluid shape as dark it pranced

Through the open door it swiftly danced il

With the  well known wiles of Tudor kings

Hoping they can make it on the wing

I learned with grief , it came to take you back.

Across the river wide ,my love, my lack