False Security

I remember the dread with which I at a quarter past

Let go with a bang behind me our house front

And, clutching a present for my dear little hostess tight,

Sailed out for the children's party into the

Or rather the gathering night.

For still some

In the near municipal acres were making a

Shuffling in fallen leaves and shouting and

And running past hedges of hawthorn, spiky and bristling.

And black in the oncoming darkness stood out the

And pink shone the ponds in the sunset ready to

And all was still and ominous waiting for

And the keeper was ringing his closing bell in the

And the arc lights started to fizzle and burst into

As I climbed West Hill to the great big house in the grove,

Where the children's party was and the dear little hostess.

But halfway up stood the empty house where the ghost is.

I crossed to the other side and under the

Made a rush for the next kind lamppost out of the

And so to the next and the next till I reached the

Where the grove branched off to the left.

Then ready to dropI ran to the ironwork gateway of number

Secure at last on the lamp lit fringe of heaven.

Oh who can say how subtle and safe one

Shod in ones children's sandals from Daniel Neal's,

Clad in one's party clothes made of stuff from Heal's?

And who can still one's thrill at the candle

On cakes and ices and jelly and blackcurrant wine,

And the warm little feel of my hostess's hand in mine?

Can I forget my delight at the conjuring show?

And wasn't I proud that I was the last to go?

Too overexcited and pleased with myself to

That the words I heard my hostess's mother

To a guest departing, would ever diminish my joy,

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