When the dark shroud of night has fallen from my eyes
And the pale light of early morn bids me arise
These strange thoughts assault the synergy of my day
And I’m consumed with one wild urge to run away,
I’m sure this world rests heavily upon my mind
And keeps me foreign to the peace that I must find.
There are some days that I simply cannot recall without a sprinkling of tears, however of late the occasions are multiplying faster than my tissue supply ! Can you relate at all ? And these words run through my head in confirmation, “The world is too much with us: late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours;” this compliments of the master, William Wordsworth. Does anyone find the name suspicious or apropos ? “Words worth” remembering and we have for ages ! I fault this poet with my adoration of the “misty isles” as it was his “Lines Composed A Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey”. that brought me as a young woman to his country for the first time and has kept me enchanted for far more than half of my life. Frankly, Wales sings to me with its moods and passion while England appeals to my sense of being ! Scotland is all strength and courage and the Channel Isles are contentment. Ireland is a world apart, fantasy and dreams completing the cycle of life. It is two years now I’m unable to return and memories must do, like the ancient Hebrew wish, “Next year in Jerusalem”, as I reach for the kleenex. What do you think ?
Sincerely,
Claire B.
A little bird has sung to me
How glad he is that we are free
If I should join him in the sky
Do you believe that I might fly ?
What would it take to soar above
In search of God’s enduring love
Some miracle that will take place
When we have had that final race ?
Claire V. Bogdanos 