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In the poetry section of the secondhand bookshop
I stand in front of a wall of lost verse
Of forgotten poems
Overwhelmed I choose a volume at random
And leafing through I begin reading
But just snippets
Here and there
I know some of the poets of course
Shakespeare dominates almost four whole shelves
But there are so many poems languishing here
Unread
I reach for a collection by Charles Causley
And I scan the index for the one about
The Jolly Hunter and there it is
‘Jolly good,’ I say