Moving On.

  (From Wordsworth’s ‘THE BROTHERS’)

Pencil in hand and book upon the knee

Upon the long stone seat beneath the eaves,

Expectations to the fickle winds

Such a confusion to his memory of leaves.

He to the solitary church yard turned

To that particular spot his family were laid

The thought of death sits easy on the man

And for my part, I have often prayed.

Upon the long stone seat beneath the eaves,

Expectations to the fickle winds

Such a confusion to his memory of leaves.

He to the solitary church yard turned

To that particular spot his family were laid

The thought of death sits easy on the man

And for my part, I have often prayed.

He had gone forth among the new dropped lambs,

There were butterflies to wheel about,

Strange alterations wrought on every side,

That he began to doubt

that you are heedless of the past,

here’s neither head nor foot-stone, plate of brass

we talk about the dead by our fire-sides

who many years ago this road did pass.

A child is born or christened, a web spun,

For accidents and changes such as these

In this our valley all of us have wished

For verdant hills with dwellings among trees.

The happy man will creep about the fields

Now there sir, is a thought that’s new to me’

No look and scribble, no scribble and look

Can trace the finger of mortality