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An Homage to British Youth

by TOM SLOAN

Triplets, South East London, Lockdown 2020

Lancelot, Countryside night club, Wales 2018

Kerry and Jamie, Love on the M3 corridor

Merthyr Tydfil, Wales, Boys racing at the recreation ground.

The King brothers, four brothers, who live on a farm in Wiltshire, This project was shot partly through lockdown and is about youth and brotherhood in the countryside. The year we truly understood the power and importance of family. My early youth wo

Alex, Norfolk, January 2018. This was a fleeting moment, I stopped Alex and asked him if I could shoot his portrait. It was late morning, he told me he had been released from prison that morning, he served 6 weeks for hare coursing. He agreed to the

George, Apprentice Thatcher, Wiltshire 2020

Dakota, British kick boxing champion, Manchester

Young Farmers AGM, Blackpool 2018. The young farmers is the biggest youth group in the UK. Yet possibly an under documented section of youth culture. I spent the weekend in Blackpool for the annual meet. Its the three days day of the year these hard

Youth and Age

Verse, a breeze mid blossoms straying,
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee—
Both were mine! Life went a-maying
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
When I was young!

When I was young?—Ah, woful When!
Ah! for the change 'twixt Now and Then!
This breathing house not built with hands,
This body that does me grievous wrong,
O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands,
How lightly then it flashed along:—
Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,
On winding lakes and rivers wide,
That ask no aid of sail or oar,
That fear no spite of wind or tide!
Nought cared this body for wind or weather
When Youth and I lived in't together.

Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;
Friendship is a sheltering tree;
O! the joys, that came down shower-like,
Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,
Ere I was old!
Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere,
Which tells me, Youth's no longer here!
O Youth! for years so many and sweet,

'Tis known, that Thou and I were one,
I'll think it but a fond conceit—
It cannot be that Thou art gone!
Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd:—
And thou wert aye a masker bold!
What strange disguise hast now put on,
To make believe, that thou are gone?

I see these locks in silvery slips,
This drooping gait, this altered size:
But Spring-tide blossoms on thy lips,
And tears take sunshine from thine eyes!
Life is but thought: so think I will
That Youth and I are house-mates still.

Dew-drops are the gems of morning,
But the tears of mournful eve!
Where no hope is, life's a warning
That only serves to make us grieve,
When we are old:
That only serves to make us grieve
With oft and tedious taking-leave,
Like some poor nigh-related guest,
That may not rudely be dismist;

Yet hath outstay'd his welcome while,
And tells the jest without the smile.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

Younger

by TOM SLOAN