I stumbled across this nostalgic scene whilst cycling around the Fenlands in Cambridgeshire
Cling to it long enough, and not a doubt It will turn true again, for so it goes.
Most of the change we think we see in life Is due to truths being in and out of favour.
There’s not a hill in all the view,
Save that a forked cloud or two
Upon the verge of distance lies
And into mountains cheats the eyes.
And as to trees the willows wear
Lopped heads as high as bushes are;
Some taller things the distance shrouds
That may be trees or stacks or clouds
Or may be nothing; still they wear
A semblance where there’s nought to spare.