Late spring has kissed awake the walnut tree,
Snap dragons, wide-eyed lambs, the honey-bee,
Small rivers trailing blossom from the bough—
Yet you are all I seek of England now.
The land renews! — but not its mortal kind,
And we have left our springtimes far behind,
The snow is on our peaks, the creeks run dry;
I stare more at my feet than at the sky.
A life I’ve lived of laughter, aye, and pain,
A race that I would gladly run again,
But only with your gentle fingers pressed
To soothe this famished monster in my breast.
Soon now, I think, my spirit must depart,
And journey where I know not. Yet, dear heart,
If all impatient, first, your soul should steal,
Turn but your face — to find me at your heel!
Mandalay, Mustique May 1, 2003
For a pioneer Mustique homeowner and his lovely wife
who died within a short time of each other following a
last scuba dive together.
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