A Norfolk Poem

The Coast: Norfolk by Frances Cornford As on the highway's quiet edge He mows the grass beside the hedge, The old man has for company The distant, grey, salt-smelling sea, A poppied field, a cow and calf, The finches on the telegraph. Across his faded back a hone, He slowly, slowly scythes alone In silence of the wind-soft air, With ladies' bedstraw everywhere, With whitened corn, and tarry poles, And far-off gulls like risen souls.