[When I visited Headington Church in the early 70s the churchyard was kept locked and could only conveniently be visited by going through the church when there was a service.]

At the Grave of William Kimber

Having paid admission
(An hour's Sung Eucharist)
I left the church's tollhouse
To find one special grave,
Whose newness sparkled in the noonday sun
Setting it apart from those
That moss and rain-stain long since dulled.

What came I here to see?
To left - seventeen stones, rough-hewn and crazy-paved.
To right - the headstone, and below -
Stone bellows, too carven to move,
But that show more clearly than the inscription
How Merrily he refathered English Morris.

What came I here to do?
To stand with camera at the grave-foot;
Record my momentary passing
At the transient memorial brightness
That stands above the ninety-year-old bones
Of never-fading music;
Repay with the little effort
Of ascending Headington Hill
(And an hour's Sung Eucharist)
The stretching of his fingers
To inspire my generation.

What came I here to hear?
Double Lead Through played on stone bellows,
Though almost drowned by squeals of music
From the toll-house organ;
Haste to the Wedding, very softly played,
Lest it offend against the matrimonial rites
Beloved of sixty Oxford Anglo-Catholics
Emerging to their cars and Sunday lunch.