Sir,—I am glad to see that Mr. G. Dale Oliver is “on the side of the angels” in the matter of Greeny Bank as the best site for a war memorial.  I see Mr. Courtenay Hodgson suggests a change of place of flagstaff on Greeny Bank, and a friend of mine who was there last week thinks it could be better placed; but surely the peculiar fall of the ground at Greeny Bank makes it impossible to decide upon the exact spot of the memorial until a decision is arrived at as to the actual form of memorial.  Many forms suggest themselves – a little Roman Temple like the Loggia on the terrace at Rivauix Abbey, a column of victory, a great Cumbrian Cross of pre-Norman type, a group of statuary, etc.  It goes without saying that until some definite proposal as to the form of memorial is made subscribers will not come forward.  I understand that the architects of Carlisle suggested the name of a very competent designer to advise the Committee, but surely the whole point of such advice must depend on whether the monument is to take an architectural or a sculptural form.  During my holiday in Provence I saw the most beautiful memorial of Victory from Roman times that probably exists in Europe.  It was set up by Julius Caesar at Glanum (now St. Remy) to commemorate the decisive victories of Marius over the Huns in the year 102 B.C., and over the Cimbri in the year 101 B.C.  There would be something apposite in placing a small replica of this Roman Memorial of victory in old Roman Stanwix the more so that it is victory over the Huns that we commemorate to-day,—as it was victory over the Huns that Caesar commemorated.  But my main object in writing this letter is to call attention to the fact that, if a group of sculpture is decided on, we have in Mr, Derwent Wood a Cumbrian who seems to stand head and shoulders above the younger sculptors of our day.  It is true his work is better known in the Colonies than in England, but the Academy has this year honoured itself by honouring him, and at the wish of the Government he went out to the front to make studies of our men in various phases of active fighting.  His life-like groups in models were exhibited last year in London and attracted much attention, and the National Fine Arts Collections Fund has just presented a beautiful statue of Atalanta by him to the Manchester Art Gallery.  It is certain, of course, that no first-rate artist, will enter any competition, and I presume that before the form of the memorial is definitely decided upon a representative meeting of both city and county will be held at which these matters will be debated.

(Carlisle Journal, 25 May 1920, p. 4)

[This was the last letter to the Press that HDR penned]

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When I am weary-hearted, overthrown,
        And feel my life’s real insignificance,
I wonder how on any sudden chance
Through me God’s purpose ever can be known.
Then, as the grey mist gathers o’er the town,
On Birkrigg Fell I see a window glance,
And, like a star new fallen from its dance,
It glows and brightens till the sun drops down—
Some miner’s cot set careless on the hill,
That never dreamed its window so should burn—
Should flash such royal message back from Heaven:
Face thou the sun, faint heart, and stand thou still!
God’s level light may strike on thee in turn,
And glorious help to distant eyes be given.

(Sonnets at the English Lakes, p. 117)

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These footpaths do not only minister to the comfort and convenience of all classes, but they materially affect the health and rest of our hard-worked city people who during their short vacation come for recreation to our rural neighbourhoods.  These footpaths do more than give health; they stimulate thought, and they educate the eyes of our fellow-countrymen.  All close observers of nature, whether they are botanists, ornithologists, entomologists, or poets and painters, owe very much to their chances of education in our quiet field-ways and woodland walks.

These footpaths do more than serve our convenience, our health, our rest, our thought, our education; they foster a love of our home and our fatherland; they make us patriots.

It is for this that I plead earnestly that so soon as possible, either by private Bill or clauses in the District Council Bill that is shortly to be ours, the Legislature see to it that effective means are given to county authorities to safeguard the sacred inheritance our children claim at our hands –- the ancient rights of way.

It is little less than a scandal that, as matters are, invaluable field paths are at the mercy of men who, by simply giving orders to an agent or a keeper or a tenant to close up that path, can take away illegally and with immunity that which never belonged to them, and that for which the public are almost as individuals powerless to fight.

(English Lakes Visitor and Keswick Guardian, 23 August 1890, p. 5)

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I know a cottage by the Cornish sea
    Deep in a cove, gold-blossomed to the cloud,
Its hearth with music of the wave is loud,
Its chamber jocund with the streamlet’s glee.
About it cries the gull and hums the bee,
Above it sings the lark, around it crowd
All flowers that love the sun and are not proud,
And live their lives out innocent and free.
Steep to the threshold fall the cliff-hewn stairs,
But on the heights are left all human cares,
And only days of thoughtful happiness
Descend its seaboard solitude to bless,
While still bright leagues of azure and of foam
Restrain the feet and make the cottage Home.

(Sonnets Round the Coast, p. 25)

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