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Wednesday, September 14, 2011

The Gold Remains


www.gloucestershirewildlifetrust.co.uk
Bare feet on the new spring grass
Mingle with the daffodils;
Laughing voices, fresh and young,
Echo on the sunlit hills.

For they are youth, and they are spring,
These gold things tossing in the breeze:
A merry flash, a sudden glimpse,
That young hands eager reach to seize.

She cranes her head to try to see
More than there is from where she stands:
The scene is hers, and rightly so—
She grew them all with loving hands.

The laundry waits for half an hour;
This fruit is hers to hold:
One second of eternity
To have her fill of gold.

But then the morning fades away;
She turns her face and sighs;
The spring is gone, the children grown,
The flower fades and dies.

For all her love and all her care,
The winter comes again:
And old, old Time she cannot slow,
Nor keep things as they’ve been.

The years pass on, and many springs
See an empty field of grass;
The house is gone: the hearth, the frame,
And shadow footsteps pass.

For they are gone which once had lived,
And naught of them remains;
Forgotten are her mother-joys,
Her mother-cares and pains.

But bare feet on the new spring grass
Mingle with the daffodils;
And laughing voices fill the air
And echo on the ancient hills:

For they are youth, and they are spring,
These gold things tossing on the breeze:
A merry flash of distant hours
That young hands eager reach to seize.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f3/Daffodils_%283357436358%29.jpg/640px-Daffodils_%283357436358%29.jpg
photo by Tony Hisgett, 2009. wikimedia.org

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