Box Hill. Poem by Kevin Hulme

On Box Hills Green and Wooded land, A picnic forms the day. Where friends now gather upon repast, All out from Highbury way. Now Balls and Music are the grounds for making a Match her joy, But Emma Woodhouse now being clever and Rich, Where here her talents employ. For all to soon, silence and gloom, inflict every soul seated by, The Elton's do frown, poor Harriet's cast down, For the Congenial well is dry. "I ask of you all some entertainment ", says Frank Churchill whose voice breaks the lull, "Tell us One or two things very clever or one thing being exceedingly dull". "All dull things at once I will utter ", Said dear Miss Bates with a sigh, " Three only I'm afraid is your limit ", came Emma's quick caustic reply. Now Miss Bates being poor and a Maiden, her Roses blush through " Herrick's " Rhyme, Was shocked and dismayed by the comment, From a friend who was both generous and kind. "Emma, how could you be so unfeeling ", George Knightley later begun, "To be cruel to a friend of long standing, I say it was so badly done". Later distraught and despondent, and left with her feelings to own, Miss Woodhouse wrapped in a cloud of Contrition, Did weep through the long journey home.