"Come the evening, folk were going about their daily tasks, working in the fields while birds sweetly sang. The teacher sat in the porch waiting for the schoolmaster to appear before Bible reading class could begin, meanwhile the attending children happily played, running up and down the churchyard, little knowing the impending doom that was to befall them. The schoolmaster duly arrived, readings began and when done was followed with a final hymn, 'Oh let me, heavenly Lord extend, My view to life's approaching end... . "(Religious tract 1819, probably by the then Curate of Sedgeford.) "During the dreadful thunderstorm on the Evening of July 5th the electric fluid struck the top of Sedgeford Church Steeple on the West Side, and precipitated to the ground several stones of considerable magnitude making a breach in the wall of about a yard square. The lightning also passed through the Church entering in at a window near the porch on the South side; and after crossing in a North East direction, it made its escape at two places in an upper window near the Chancel on the North side". (The Times, 1819) Zeus serves notice, via Hermes, I can mind-read his no show: “Earth’s off axis, mind wreaks chaos, and it mocks gods’ control!! “Man-made death-tides,winds, quakes, burn-outs, heat, light, sound – once all Fairy-ringed, Neptune-swayed, angel-buttressed: now they blow. “Past my epoch, my four cycles, a million years Hurling thunderbolts and miracles (mirror-calls), I let it go. "Gone my long reign and its vapour’s subtle shape-shifting Cloud; Breath of God’s shadow falling as rain, my own shadow. “King of angels, I, yet angels and gods looking down Pray for low birth to ascend where we high spirits go. “Man yet king god, I return to the earth as a star; Raise the standard of what men may become, the hero. “Man and not god, with my lightning confined in a sword, Earthed, to die there like a man, pass the third heaven so. “Like St Michael, ageless angel, took one lifetime as a man To be God the day his body died, so let me below... I embrace this girl among the lowest of the low." Link to full words and other material here- https://garethcalway.blogspot.com/2019/04/desperately-researching-susan.html

The Ballad of Susan Nobes ‘Come out in the dark lane, lonely boy, Leave your laptop and play with me. Leave your father and mother and holiday home For my wildwood and wicked sea.’ A gone-tomorrow full-moon face In bonnet and Sunday best; A goose ran up and down my flesh, My hair stood stiff as a crest. ‘I’d die to hold a girl like you, So fashion-hungry thin But fear there is no heart behind That sly come-hither grin. ‘There’s maggots in your Sunday best, Your bony heroine chic’s A shade too grave about your mouth, Your vulture-grinning beak.’ ‘I’ve been Death’s bride two hundred years And much too young to die, Let me take you back to 1819, The Fifth Day of July.’ The Squire rode down my father’s door ‘All hands to the pump!’ honked he. ‘Sir, I’m weary from working your bone-dry fields, ‘My family hath need of me!’ ‘You’re weary from working my golden fields But my House expects a neighbour And my Stream has dried in the lower field And my Pump demands your labour.’ Our childish shrieks filled the heaven-blue Played hide and seek round the paves Laughed under the leaves of Eden-green And kiss-chased through the graves. The tardy teacher at the gate, Seized my pretty lobes, My spray of pretty graveyard flowers: ‘You’re a hell child, Susan Nobes!’ The sunlit schoolroom candle burned A flame that barely lightened; A stroke before the clock struck nine It devilishly brightened. A growl and rumble at the door, As dark as pitch in the room, A sizzling hiss, like a snake on the roof, An ear-exploding boom. ‘Prayer,’ scorned the teacher, ‘is stronger than rain!’ The dark began to splinter In lightning tongues as bright as noon, It grew as cold as winter. ‘God save us!’ screamed the children all, The teacher tore her gown, The rain came down in ice and hail, The sky turned upside down. A stained glass window-angel smashed, I kneeled and tried to pray, A fiery crack of sulphur took My girlish breath away. The flickering lightning licked the tower, Scorched a yard-wide hole in the wall And from where my Saviour hung on high Great blocks began to fall. ‘O Robert, our Susan’s lost in the storm. What kept you away so long?’ ‘The Squire needed water, he got his wish, But where is our daughter gone?’ ‘I sent her to Sunday School, oh Robert, And I fear my choice was cursed. For none alive has seen such a Flood Of gravesoil in the church. He forged the cross under baked Dove Hill Its Wash rolled like a tide, He climbed over hill to the rain-drenched crowd And took the teacher aside. ‘Where’s Susan?’ he said, as quiet as Death, ‘I believe she is with her Saviour.’ ‘You left her alone in the schoolroom and fled?’ His question got no answer. He waded past the porchway Flood, The font they’d named his daughter And into a schoolroom as chill as the tomb Awash with blocks and mortar. He found me lifeless upon the floor, My temples charred with flame, He clenched me in his arms and wept A tide he’ll never stem. ‘Come out in the dark lane, lonely boy, Leave your laptop and play with me. Leave your father and mother and holiday home For my wildwood and wicked sea.’