bred in a market arch
a struggle
in a city's armpit
that flower
in your time-rough hands
a beautiful girl in a slum alley
all that kindness in your face
and you're right
the times are not what they were
this England's not what it was
flowers shrink in that crumbling vase
dusk creeps in on a cart
and Maud the sun is choking
Maud this island's sinking
and all that swollen sea is
the silent majority
waving
Keith Armstrong
