(March 7th,1941 / Chichester, West Sussex, England)

Escape

The wind rushing past me was monstrous wild
As I clambered to the top of the downs;
My feet were dirty and aching bad
When at last I reached the crown.

But what cared I for such trivial things
When such wonderful nature swept by me:
The trees and the grass blowing awry
In the boisterous spring wind,
Which ruffled my hair and made my face sting.

There was I, a solitary figure,
Alone on the top of the downs:
With all of the clouds astir
And far from any town -
The sea in the distance
A single grey line,
How I felt, how I saw those views
So fine.

I sat upon a hillock of springy green turf,
Saw the new buds on the trees;
And the whole of the world seemed full
Of new birth - then the wind
Suddenly dropped to a breeze.

The white chalk paths, so rough and stony,
Wound higher and higher up each hill,
And I sat and thought how good to be lonely,
And for a second all was still.

But I could not have it the way I wished,
The wind grew louder, the air more chill;
I saw a path, though knew not to where it lead,
But I walked and I walked and behind me

Everything once more was still.

.

(May 1955)
(Written after going for a walk on the Willingdon downs.)

by Philippa Lane

Other poems of LANE (45)

Comments (4)

nicely made a lovely chick There was I, a solitary figure, Alone on the top of the downs: With all of the clouds astir And far from any town - The sea in the distance A single grey line, How I felt, how I saw those views So fine
Dear Philippa, A truly breathless adventure. I don't want to spoil it, in my quest for ambitious display of my literary prowess, which thankfully fails me now. Phillip
Great poem. Very atmospheric. Nothing like the exhilaration of being alone out in the hills!
I enjoyed this too, though the mitre mite nead some tweaking here and there. Fantastic effort for one so young.