tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11714788.post8389099384465640..comments2023-08-13T16:15:32.649+01:00Comments on Thomas Hardy: Where the Picnic WasUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11714788.post-40017402270734680662019-01-20T19:59:02.585+00:002019-01-20T19:59:02.585+00:00Fasten those sandals! Your buckles!
they`re jingli...Fasten those sandals! Your buckles!<br />they`re jingling loose! she calls, Come on!<br /><br />And jingling still, down we jump the high front steps, <br />with canvas bags and apples, sandwiches, eggs and cheese,<br />on our day-out...<br /><br />seventy years almost, not yet, and tides<br />and passing moons have flooded and sank in wide, wide seas.<br /><br />All these now gone but me, <br />lingering with shadows, <br />no flesh nor form, yet still can drench my soul.<br /><br />And there, down the ridge, down still we troop the streets<br />where fields no longer<br />drink the dews to pour their streams.<br /><br />And tides of traffic flow our bus to us, <br />ride up, dip down to trickling waters, and up to fields,<br />to massive walls and park, through arrow-laden,<br />cast-iron gates, by stone-built antique cottage<br />lodge and long tree-tunnel of cawing rooks.<br /><br />And out we burst to sunlight<br />to that widening space of slides and swings,<br />of joyful shrieks and childish glee,<br />and up our spirits soar, to climb and race, <br />in madcap chase, of boys and girls, while mums and aunties stretch to rest,<br />to chat, to point and laugh with cups of cabin tea,<br />to linger on these moments happily. <br /><br />And now I linger, wonder where they`re gone,<br />what echoes sound the hearts of their desires?<br />where are those sturdy limbs, those babbling voices?<br />And that midsummer`s day so warm and bright?<br />Yes, that lingered too and with me here forever stays, <br />that there we stayed<br />with all that frolicking, unknown, happy crowd<br />that one by one slipped far away.<br /><br />And blue skies dimmed to red and gold,<br />to dusk for tired little ones,<br />tired big ones too, to sink to rest.<br /><br />Pull closed the curtains,<br />let darkness fall: for all have gone.<br />Time, Time alone, rules this midnight,<br />star-bright, timeless realm, but waits on me to dim the light...<br /><br />I SUPPOSE YOU COULD SAY THIS WAS PROMPTED BY READING HARDY'S POEM...THOUGH I ADMIRE "THE DARKLING THRUSH" MUCH MORE<br /><br />WALLACE HARRISONnoreply@blogger.com