Over in the sidebar to the right, down past the Blog Archive list, is a poem by a Yorkshire lad named Neil Theasby (you might know him as blogger Yorkshire Pudding) that I included with his permission in 2013. I was 72 then and I loved the poem on first reading. I am 85 now and with every passing year I love it even more. I imagine that not many readers nowadays scroll down sidebars but head straight for the blogposts, so I am posting it here for your enjoyment:
Song for Lost Youth
Perhaps I should have cradled it
Like a dove
Kept it safe with tender love
But I squandered it -
Gushing-blundering-raging
Like a wild mountain stream
Desperate for an ocean
That was but a distant dream.
...I just never thought
That I could have loitered in the shallows
Reflecting the blueness of the sky
- Concealing silver fishes
- Quietly biding my time
- Stretching it out.
And so, and so it's gone now
- My ephemeral youth
- That precious once only gift
- That honeyed sweetness,
Leaving only the trembling resonance
Of distant echoes
From half-remembered hills.
--Neil Theasby, 2013. Used by permission.
I don't really think I squandered my youth but the fact remains that it is long gone and Neil's poem resonated with me. I hope readers of all ages will enjoy it.
Mrs. RWP (the lovely Ellie) and I celebrate our 63rd wedding anniversary this month. We have three children currently aged 58, 60, and almost 62. We have six adult grandchildren ranging in age from 25 to 30. We are happily anticipating the birth of our fourth great-grandson in early June. The song "Sunrise, Sunset" from Fiddler On The Roof was sung at our daughter's wedding in 1993 as the parents of the bride and groom were escorted to their seats, and its words are even sweeter today:
Sunrise, Sunset
Is this the little girl I carried,
Is this the little boy at play?
I don't remember growing older,
When did they?
When did she get to be a beauty,
When did he grow to be so tall?
Wasn't it yesterday
When they were small?
Sunrise, sunset,
Sunrise, sunset,
Swiftly flow the days.
Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers,
Blossoming even as we gaze.
What words of wisdom can I give them,
How can I help to ease their way?
Now they must learn from one another,
Day by day.
Sunrise, sunset,
Sunrise, sunset,
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another,
Laden with happiness and tears.
Sunrise, sunset,
Sunrise, sunset,
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another,
Laden with happiness,
And tears.
I may be a sentimental old man now but I have memories, sweet ones and some not so sweet.
And yes, distant echoes from half-remembered hills.
I really like this post and how you look back at your life.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Red! There is a lot more to look back on than there s to look forward to. You and I are both at the age where we could live another 20 years or another 20 minutes.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely post.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Ellen.
ReplyDeleteI was not familiar with the first poem. It's beautiful. The second of course I know. They are a part of my feelings as I get older.
ReplyDeleteThe Theasby poem grabbed me when I first encountered it on Neil's blog, and he graciously gave me permission to publish it on mine as well. It became one of my favorites. And "Sunrise, Sunset" is even better when sung. Thank you, emma!
ReplyDeleteTo see "Sunrise, Sunset" appearing like a poem without music - it gives it a different kind of resonance in my opinion and those words struck home more pointedly for me. Regarding my own poem, it pleases me enormously that you still cherish it Bob and with regard to my on-going relationship with the making of poems, your genuine regard gives my confidence an extra boost. In my computer cupboard a special poem continues to mature. It is called "Stanage Edge" and this week I will get it out once again to have another good look at it.
ReplyDeleteSome lyrics resonate as poetry more than others. For instance, "Sha-boom, Sha-boom, Ya-da-da-da-da-da Ya-da-da-da-da, Sha-boom, Sha-boom" does absolutely nothing for me. Thanks for dropping by, Neil. I was hoping you would [drop by]. I do love "Song for Lost Youth".
DeleteAh yes, how did my little boy get to be the father of a little boy. The math ain't mathing in my mind.
ReplyDeleteYou seem to have lived and loved well, Robert. When your allotted time ends, you can be proud, I think
From your mouth to God's ear (an old Jewish phrase my mother used to say). Thank you, kylie.
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