Coordinates: 51°03′05″N 3°00′26″W / 51.0515°N 3.0071°W / 51.0515; -3.0071
Durston is a village and civil parish in Somerset, England, situated on the A361 road 5 miles (8.0 km) north east of Taunton and 6 miles (9.7 km) south of Bridgwater in the Taunton Deane district. The parish lies on undulating ground between the lowest slopes of the Quantock Hills and the valley of the River Tone at the Curry and Hay Moors. The village has a population of 136.
The place-name derives from the Anglo-Saxon word 'deór-tún’, being a combination of the word for a wild animal, a deer (deór,) and the word for a fenced enclosure (tún). The most likely interpretation is 'deer park’.
Alwig (a Saxon; also written Alwi) held DURSTON manor from King Edward the Confessor before the Norman Conquest. Durston appeared in the Domesday Book in 1086 as follows: Richard holds of Roger Arundel, DURSTON. Alwig held it TRE and it paid geld for 2 hides and 3 virgates of land. There is land for 4 ploughs. In demesne is 1 plough and 4 slaves; and 4 villans and 5 bordars and 4 cottars with 3 ploughs. There are 15 acres of meadow, and 20 acres of pasture and 20 acres of woodland. It was and is worth 40s..
Durston is an English toponymic surname. The name was first recorded in 1641 in A Somerset Petition of 1641. The name is taken from the village of Durston in Somerset. It is derived from the Anglo-Saxon deór-tún, a combination of "deer" (deór,) and "fenced enclosure" (tún). The most likely interpretation is deer park.
Tricky mandatory saving life and glory
Sum of my demon till ways of my say devotion
May isolder blast be argentine ending
Conquering out stepping not remember conquering angina
Conquering out stepping not remember conquering...
In decadence I take thee by the hand
too frail... to gain the promised land
too frail... to take your pain away
too frail... a sequel of decay
May millenniums gather
on the mirage of desolated souls
far between departure and sorrow
I breed my afterthought
In thy hours of vast dejection's haunt... wane
An angel strays upon my door
so frail and lost within
To weep upon her days of yore
my decadent come in
Her stain and tears upon my floor
the sorrow that she brings
Devotion of a life outworn
in decadence come in
May thy lids desorb from emerald seas
a pending solitary
Though thy pain redeems, life it seems to be