Chichester Writers Circle

The meeting place for Chichester's Writers

Joe Baker


At Rest


Scatter me not over hallowed ground

Where the soil is sour and no one's around.

Nor on turf of the chase, realm of the hound,

Nor on bleak moorland, nor in stagnant sound.

Not a cave in the Gorge miles under the ground,

Nor on top of a peak where I'll never be found.

Nor think you I'll rest on the rolling downs

With frost chilled hollows and touristy towns.

But scatter me please o’er clear waters that rise

At Trewsbury Mead under sapphire skies

And roll down thro' Remenham to St Nicholas’ path

Where my love and I wended to chatter and laugh

  And here we will float in perpetual grace

  Each rapt in the other’s dust-spangled embrace.