In the land that love forgot lit by the light of an autumn moon Memory stirred and held a thought of those once upon a time days When roses rich with red scented days with hope Wind-strewn days with fallen apple air fresh with suckled honey When once You and I loved
smitten immersed in this infinity enamoured Longing in those autumn days Regaining in their wistful hours what summer once had brought us All now lost in time’s story But always and forever written on memory’s scroll.
He is my history Lusting after the hills of my youth He strides the moorland paths Amidst the bracken and the gorse Drinking the sun’s warm ale Savouring the wind’s heather-toned tang Turning time to his advantage Tuning in to its connecting wavelength He is great Nature’s spirit Rising and falling with its moods Sad yet serene in Spring Holding the hope of the future
Bright and bubbly in the summer rains Rich and expansive in the sun’s bright gaze
Brought to magnificent autumn richness Coloured by russet tints Fruitful in his beneficence
He is the winter too Drifting with the whiteness of its moods His flocks penned for winter warmth neath the mountain crag Shielding the gentle crocus And the blanched snowdrop
He is the spirit of the trees Lord of copse and wood Guardian of Grove and greenwood Verdant Monarch of the forest
Of the landscape’s lakes Running with the cool waters of streams and rivers The stillness of Its ponds and pools
Both past and future Gone yet still to come again his cyclic journey unfolds From birth to death From death to resurrection To new life and resurgent hope Maintaining existence Midst promises and threats To bring renewal in the name of life
In a Spenserian Stanza each verse contains nine lines in total: eight lines in iambic pentameter followed by a single ‘alexandrine’ line in iambic hexameter. The rhyme scheme of these lines is “ababbcbcc.” Somewhat morbid, but my own composition in this form is offered below . . .
Burne-Jones – ‘Merlin & Nimue’ – detail
Death’s Calling Card
In summer time when light is long to last And evening stretches far into the night, Then I am wont to think of times gone past When life was dear and death was out of sight; But autumn has arrived and dimmed the light, That short time left to me now presses hard; Have I done all the planning that I might, Allowed myself my faults to disregard, Updated my résumé, my next life’s calling card?