Where we made the fire,In the summer time,
Of branch and briar
On the hill to the sea
I slowly climb
Through winter mire,
And scan and trace
The forsaken place
Quite readily.
Now a cold wind blows,
And the grass is gray,
But the spot still shows
As a burnt circle--aye,
And stick-ends, charred,
Still strew the sward
Whereon I stand,
Last relic of the band
Who came that day!
Yes, I am here
Just as last year,
And the sea breathes brine
From its strange straight line
Up hither, the same
As when we four came.
- But two have wandered far
From this grassy rise
Into urban roar
Where no picnics are,
And one--has shut her eyes
For evermore.
1 comment:
Fasten those sandals! Your buckles!
they`re jingling loose! she calls, Come on!
And jingling still, down we jump the high front steps,
with canvas bags and apples, sandwiches, eggs and cheese,
on our day-out...
seventy years almost, not yet, and tides
and passing moons have flooded and sank in wide, wide seas.
All these now gone but me,
lingering with shadows,
no flesh nor form, yet still can drench my soul.
And there, down the ridge, down still we troop the streets
where fields no longer
drink the dews to pour their streams.
And tides of traffic flow our bus to us,
ride up, dip down to trickling waters, and up to fields,
to massive walls and park, through arrow-laden,
cast-iron gates, by stone-built antique cottage
lodge and long tree-tunnel of cawing rooks.
And out we burst to sunlight
to that widening space of slides and swings,
of joyful shrieks and childish glee,
and up our spirits soar, to climb and race,
in madcap chase, of boys and girls, while mums and aunties stretch to rest,
to chat, to point and laugh with cups of cabin tea,
to linger on these moments happily.
And now I linger, wonder where they`re gone,
what echoes sound the hearts of their desires?
where are those sturdy limbs, those babbling voices?
And that midsummer`s day so warm and bright?
Yes, that lingered too and with me here forever stays,
that there we stayed
with all that frolicking, unknown, happy crowd
that one by one slipped far away.
And blue skies dimmed to red and gold,
to dusk for tired little ones,
tired big ones too, to sink to rest.
Pull closed the curtains,
let darkness fall: for all have gone.
Time, Time alone, rules this midnight,
star-bright, timeless realm, but waits on me to dim the light...
I SUPPOSE YOU COULD SAY THIS WAS PROMPTED BY READING HARDY'S POEM...THOUGH I ADMIRE "THE DARKLING THRUSH" MUCH MORE
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