On one side is the beautiful, historic city, and on the other lies the watermeadows, which inspired Keats' 'To Autumn'. Writing about the changing seasons in Hampshire for a competition, I composed the following sonnet:
The drifting lazy beams of golden light
Fall down upon the gently rippling lawn,
And clouds, as if in silken fabric torn,
Caress the sky before the fall of night.
The crack and snap and pop of fractured sticks
Begin to split the tranquil peace; and feel
The change from day to night. The clouds reveal
The stars, a thousand flames on burnt-out wicks
They glimmer in the vast galactic deep
And gaze down on the plain where once the sun
Beat down upon the twisted trees, not one
Branch gouged with etches, can escape the sleep;
The veil of night is starting to descend
Across the world, and soon the spring will end.