Half-remembered hills

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.