[Redbook1:245A][19720531:2154][Ghosts][31st
May 1972]
197205312154
(Ghosts)
Slow again, memory turns,
Long
returning: glittering days,
Days of
Sun, never return,
Passing,
falling, dying: my years.
In the Sunshine, in fields of wind-rippled grass, and
In narrow lanes winding, I hear
The laughter of Children, the sorrow of living,
The fear of a nameless fear:
Friends I
lost in treacherous seas
-- Northern
Seas are bitter and wide --
Cold in
fear, fear of the Sea,
Turning,
sinking, drifting they died.
Crying, over the fields of Sunset, I wander, and
Seeking the Valley of Bones
I stumble through mists and through darkness, in terror
Of finding the Watchful Stones:
Dead and
cold, Barrow and Stones
Brood in
darkness, watching the Mound
Where,
alone, empty I climb
Searching,
seeking – not to be found.
While over the Downland, through mists slowly curling,
The lonelier Shades that I flee, --
Their restless dead spirits encircle the Chapel
Lost, drifting in from the Sea.
Rushing
Wind: Memory flees;
Mists are
vanished; Stars glimmer through.
Alone with
echoes, buildings and trees
I cannot
remember the Faces I knew.
(Tune: The Birdwoman/Feed the Birds
(from Mary Poppins))
[PostedBlogger19102013]
