Monday, 20 January 2020


Oikophobia is a stage through which the adolescent mind all but inevitably passes. But it is also a stage in which we can become arrested.’ Roger Scruton

It seems, as if in answer to the adolescent need
To turn one’s back on all that one loved best
And walk into the world and then to test
Each old idea which lately had been seed
From which the current self had grown,
One had despaired.

For on finding there were blooms more dazzling bright,
More gaudy; hybrids bred for trumpeting their right
To dominate the public parks, be shown,
The latest, greatest, must have, modern craze
One had offered up one’s soul
For hybridising treatment, so the whole,
Native flower were wiped out.  To erase
The subtle beauty of the wild thing
So fitted for the soil, the cold, damp air,
Had been one’s mission and one’s only care
To emulate the fashionable, bring
Something of that showy, new florescence
In the juvenile belief that it would thrive,
Take over.  Full of joy, and still alive,
One believed one could acquire a new quintessence.

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