Rural England's knell

That's a great idea, thanks!

Ooers, I really really liked this.

You did very well because you had all these specific examples and you had awesome visionary and... let's face it... going on walks is fun. So, you have a really neat subject.

Plus, the very fact that you wrote this in sonnet form is amazing and I love you for it. Especially since sonnets are so... beautiful and traditional and old-fashioned, so it really works in your favor.

The only thing that I think you might consider doing is to adjust the lining of your sonnet. I mean... this isn't quite traditional, but I would rather see something like this happen:

I walk along the silent winter lane,
Hands in denim pockets, nostrils wide,
The clouds above begin to signal rain,
Though I feel no need to be inside,
The branches form a tunnel overhead,
I pass beneath my oak triumphal arch,
I dream about a history left for dead,
Hear echoes of the hobnailed boots on march,
If I keep my vision to the way,
I could be walking through another age,
Rolling fields of flint and chalky clay,
My boots a print upon an Austen page...

A five speed hum slides by and breaks the spell,
Though still eclipsed by rural England's knell.