Had you come home

What would you have found

Had you come home?

Had providence preserved the vital germ

That had begun to grow.

Perhaps you see us now

From your quiet resting place

Among the countless thousands

With whom you share your fate

In timeless grace.

Could you accept without a bitter pang

The passing of the old ways?

As you walk the lane at eventide

And reach the gate

“Cooo-ee!”

Would you not hate

The gradual disappearance

Of those things you loved?

Woods of aspen, beech and yew

And beds of fragrant herbs with ancient names,

A horse and cart; the team and plough;

The smithy; inn and woodman’s cot;

The nightingale, skylark and curlew.

.

These things are mostly gone.

No longer could you walk

For twenty miles in quiet roads unspoiled,

With only hedgerow gifts

To interrupt your leisured gait.

It’s all too late.

Only your beloved names remain

Echoes of those golden times

Captured in the legacy you left behind.

For we can hear you still

“Cooo-ee!” though fainter now

And like the passing age

Gone, but not forgotten.

(In memorandum E.T.)

13^th XI 2007