photo: Stephen Alsford
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Much as our fathers saw it – Green slopes, rolling hills, Beyond: valley and dale, Copses carpeted with bluebells In the last weeks of spring. Islands of leaves, the forest Spreads out over much Of what falls into view, Final vestige of the first-born Child, the native of earth. Summoned by distant rhythms, Lifelines wind unstilled Crossing meadows and fields, Rivers wandering, not aimless But unhurried, slide by. Coverlet azure, endless, Stretching, reaching out Its wings, gathering each Of four corners of the landscape Under warmth's tender smile. Hamlets seem unobtrusive, Dot this bas-relief; Their homes must yet host sleep – Ne'er a movement visible On the threads that entwine Life; it goes on, yet Who knows what tragedy awaits it? Pernicious tendency Of time to cast a shadow! Merchant of doubt, deception's offspring Is well-named the vision-dimmer .... Speak to me no more; Scorn answers: "Vaguely saw I spirits dancing In the half-light, moon and stars' gift, Caught imagination laughing And I followed, chasing hope's wish; Taught the twisted strands of memory To perceive what reason belied, Let the present fall behind me; Past and future now envelope, They can never be denied." |
| (1978) |
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photo: Stephen Alsford |
| Created: November 17, 2014. | © Stephen Alsford |