In Oxford today I wept for my own folly.

Then I dried my eyes and wrote this.

For it is never too late to create.

***

As Oxford spires condescend

I am like Hardy’s Jude, obscure

I cannot blame the privileged

Or prettier girls who got it right

Labours of teachers made in vain

Sins of the fathers or the Seventies

I chose my own way wilfully

An education of a different kind

So many bridges have I drowned and yet

I now, like Lennon’s Jude, will take

My song of ignorance so badly writ

And better it

***

by Gail