(An answer to Frances Cornford)Why do you rush through the fields in trains,
Guessing so much and so much.
Why do you flash through the flowery meads,
Fat-head poet that nobody reads;
And why do you know such a frightful
About people in gloves as such?
And how the devil can you be sure,
Guessing so much and so much,
How do you know but what someone who
Always to see me in nice white
At the end of the field you are rushing by,
Is waiting for his Old Dutch?
This is a response to Frances Cornford's poem 'To a Lady Seen from the Train'.
