<\/p>\n
A couple of weeks ago, I spent a very pleasant few hours in the company of Nikki Lewis-Smith, the daughter of the poet and writer Anne Lewis-Smith who was Elizabeth’s neighbour in Peppard Common for many years. They continued to correspond until Elizabeth’s death, having in common, among other things a deep love of poetry. Mrs Lewis-Smith has kindly given permission for her poem to Elizabeth to be posted on the site.<\/p>\n
Letter To Elizabeth<\/strong><\/p>\n Dear Elizabeth<\/p>\n In this envelope Sound to,\u00a0 wind in tall barley, Be careful how you empty the last corner Anne Lewis-Smith<\/p>\n Copyright Anne Lewis-Smith 1996<\/p>\n I find this a poignant and moving epitaph, embodying the sights and sounds of the natural world that Elizabeth loved and was inspired by. To her, places are more than stage settings, they are inspirational manifestations of God. Elizabeth’s writing\u00a0 opens doors for us, doors onto another world. But unlike her other contemporary writers such as C. Day Lewis’s with Narnia or Tolkien’s Middle Earth, they exist. We don’t have to slip on a magic ring, or find an enchanted wardrobe, we can go there, today, now, it only takes a shift in our perception to get us there.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A couple of weeks ago, I spent a very pleasant few hours in the company of Nikki Lewis-Smith, the daughter of the poet and writer Anne Lewis-Smith who was Elizabeth’s neighbour in Peppard Common for many years. They continued to correspond until Elizabeth’s death, having in common, among other things a deep love of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":464,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[15],"tags":[83,46],"class_list":["post-460","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-chat","tag-peppard-common","tag-poetry"],"yoast_head":"\n
\nis folded the deep shade
\nof chestnut trees
\nand the lighter dancing dark
\nof young birches.
\nPerhaps as you open it
\nthe smell of fresh scythed grass
\nor the dry pepper of sunned lupins
\nwill remind you of summer
\nand childhood.
\nWater reflections to delight
\nyour eyes are here,
\nbright crescents from fast running streams
\nmoving river rings from a trout
\nsharp glitters of an August sea.<\/p>\n
\ngeese overhead, straw loosening from
\nthe fork, the rattle, jingle and
\nsolid heavy hooves of shire horses
\nin tandem.<\/p>\n
\nfor as I folded down this sheet
\nthe quick shadow of a diving swift
\nfled across the paper……………….<\/p>\n