The wind rushing past me was monstrous wild br As I clambered to the top of the downs; br My feet were dirty and aching bad br When at last I reached the crown. br br But what cared I for such trivial things br When such wonderful nature swept by me: br The trees and the grass blowing awry br In the boisterous spring wind, br Which ruffled my hair and made my face sting. br br There was I, a solitary figure, br Alone on the top of the downs: br With all of the clouds astir br And far from any town - br The sea in the distance br A single grey line, br How I felt, how I saw those views br So fine. br br I sat upon a hillock of springy green turf, br Saw the new buds on the trees; br And the whole of the world seemed full br Of new birth - then the wind br Suddenly dropped to a breeze. br br The white chalk paths, so rough and stony, br Wound higher and higher up each hill, br And I sat and thought how good to be lonely, br And for a second all was still. br br But I could not have it the way I wished, br The wind grew louder, the air more chill; br I saw a path, though knew not to where it lead, br But I walked and I walked and behind me br br Everything once more was still. br br . br br (May 1955) br (Written after going for a walk on the Willingdon downs.