For one reason and another, I have been thinking much this week about one of my favorite places in the world: Binsey, Oxfordshire. The photo above was taken on a misty autumn morning three years ago along the road from the village of Binsey to St. Margaret's Church. As you can see in the photo, there are no poplars. Gerard Manley Hopkins tells us why.... Binsey Poplars felled 1879 My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled, Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun, All felled, felled, are all felled; Of a fresh and following folded rank Not spared, not one That dandled a sandalled Shadow that swam or sank On meadow and river and wind-wandering weed-winding bank. O if we but knew what we do When we delve or hew— Hack and rack the growing green! Since country is so tender To touch, her being só slender, That, like this sleek and seeing ball But a prick will make no eye