Out of the fog came the past Hooves clinking with fine iron Shapes of horses, swirling in a windless Sea of grey, like a veil drawn over the Stage of life; in my heart the hoof beats, The heart beats,
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Stockbridge

Stockbridge Sleepy market town – wake up – rouse yourself from slumber. Swell your river as it rushes through with memories. Lidless the river’s eyes, See that all the racing’s gone. Once horses flowed through your veins Not just rivers;
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