Lucy

*LUCY (Ending what William Wordsworth started) VI. THE GRAVE to me is happy home For aged, but not to thee. For thee, my daffodil, in Rome— It cuts me off my glee. Dreamt have I of the sinking moon While stars blossom up high, I saw thee descending so soon To Mother Earth to lie. This dirge, my Lucy, goes to thee— Motionless like statue And never more, I know, will be My glare on thy virtue. Tell fierce Nature my dear Lucy The love for thee I breed, That now the only catch for me Be to join thee as seed. Bolaji Ramos …………………………………… *William Wordsworth wrote a poem titled ‘Lucy’ in Germany in 1799. The poem has five parts. My own ‘Lucy’ is the continuation of Wordsworth’s, and hence it is the sixth part and it was written in 2017-- that is, 218 years later.