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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I Was a midwinter morn gravely put to ground, and parish leaves wet underfoot led to the sermon ‘neath the mount and to its dirges inside the gates of Eden. Where souls walk in funeral marches ‘neath a gothic bell tower and arches II Beyond the spirit house altar light I heard a lone voice not of my own recite: "The Lord is my shepherd…and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever”. My, what woe it is so young to die and have to say the long goodbye III There I was immobilised and weak with no voice to sing or words to speak, and close as you were to touch I could not hold you or bring you back. Unto mighty God in eerie cavalcade silently for that day to end I prayed IV The bells of Greyfriars in my head tolled for the living and tolled for the dead! And with each loud toll bid farewell for I knew there would no resurrection be. That cold ill wind and sea and sky does my own dark cast personify V Forgive me my duty of care defiled and forgive the ways of a miscreant child. If I had my time and yours again I’d adore you, mother, and be a better son. On your death bed you spoke to me and still your words echo mournfully VI Sorrowed is the deprivation of life, grieved is a mother, daughter, and wife! In my own end rehearsal I muse what becomes the soul of redemption lost? And what reprove you leave behind - it is a meditation that fills my mind VII O’ Death has pierced your defences, snuffed the flame and dulled my senses. So it is and so it must be so soon that we drink the bitter milk of mortality. So be it God saved you and your fears from this veil of sin and vale of tears VIII Buried under is but bone and lock in the honeycomb hills of Schnapper Rock. But below my own auguries of death lies a body of memory destined to live. Here I stand upon your tomb of clay but its flowers have long died away Written : July 1992
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