Dunwich
We biked to Dunwich through reeds and windmill creeks,
That led through sluice and weir flatlands
To a shingle-scape of submerged churches:
Drowned Domesday town
Where All Saints, Greyfriars, the harbour,
Merchants' houses, quays, wharves, inns,
Ale houses, overhanging upper storeys,
Pilgrims' paths and thronged market streets,
Cowled ghosts, cursing mariners and bleached bones,
All drift with the North Sea tide,
The hungry shoals and eager crabs.
We biked to Dunwich through reeds and windmill creeks,
That led through sluice and weir flatlands
To a shingle-scape of submerged churches:
Drowned Domesday town
Where All Saints, Greyfriars, the harbour,
Merchants' houses, quays, wharves, inns,
Ale houses, overhanging upper storeys,
Pilgrims' paths and thronged market streets,
Cowled ghosts, cursing mariners and bleached bones,
All drift with the North Sea tide,
The hungry shoals and eager crabs.
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