This weekend we had a trip out to explore Cambridge and to meet up with family members that we haven’t seen since well before Christmas.
After a convivial lunch, we took a stroll through the Front Court of King’s College to the back lawn, which is bounded by Clare College to the north. Clare is the second oldest of the surviving colleges of University of Cambridge, founded in 1326 and endowed by Elizabeth de Clare, a granddaughter of Edward I. To the west of the back lawn runs the river Cam. From the vantage point of the Clare Bridge, the oldest of Cambridge’s present bridges, we were entertained by three people in a punt getting into a hopeless mess; their punter lost the punt pole and left it sticking up out of the water, while they drifted away towards the bank. Oops! At least he wasn’t left clinging to the pole, in the middle of the Cam, while the punt drifted away from him.
….Stands the Church clock at ten to three?
And is there honey still for tea?
The Soldier – Rupert Brooke
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.