John Betjeman World Poems
- 1. Trebetherick
We used to picnic where the thrift
Grew deep and tufted to the edge;
We saw the yellow foam flakes drift
In trembling sponges on the ledge
... - 2. The Last Laugh
I made hay while the sun shone.
My work sold.
Now, if the harvest is over
And the world cold,
...
