I have, my Love, no flowers for you today,
Small summer flowers from cool green country lanes,
No lilies of the valley which you love,
Sweet peas and honeysuckle, wild dog rose
And ragged robin tied with buttercups.
These things we love and for a time have left
And know instead the burning tropic sun,
The rains upon the palms and warm salt wind.
Take then these poems, their garden is your love,
Your sweetness gives them life, for you they grow.
Seychelles 4th May 1969
Deep in the valleys of unfolding time,
Beyond the hills of doubt lay Camelot.
Its towers rose above the forest oaks,
Its spires and banners caught the morning sun.
Inside the walls, around the warrior king,
The knights and scholars gathered,
each one pledged
To help the weak, to mortify the proud
And right and love, defend and glorify.
Orion shivers in the winter night
But keeps his lonely vigil. I watch too
And wait for morning and the healing light.
20 February 1992
Yet time stood still for angels passed
In golden cohorts overhead,
And, like the play of light on hills,
The glory of their presence spread.
My blest companions drank with me
The silence of that mystic hour,
And, by their passing, stirred for me
The healing waters of the Stour.
So softly in the summer night
Your fragile vessel has set sail,
Back through your Irish Infancy,
Bound for the Islands of the Blest.
We stand upon our adult shores
And through the curtain of our tears
Perceive at last, in all its grace,
Your loving presence in our lives.
Now comes the gathering of our years,
the harvest of our childhood days,
And in the barns of memory
We store the blessings
of your love.
For my brothers and sisters
In loving memory of our Mother 1903 – 1992