Something of England will go with him in memory
That Ariel summer down to the sea
Racing the rattler under galleon skies
The halloo from a hill, the cut pillows with steam
And apples bright as bells in the shining bower
The chalk stream chill and ribbon rill
By the wagon in the furrowed lea
Through blithe lanes to the free house
A seat in the sunset window, and her laugh
Rig the dappled canvas, spark and tinder
The starstruck sigh of her name
And the breath of old gods, green and gold
Passed then from that blessed earth
On the best of days, and the last
The Radio Times unread, not thinking much at all
The kettle clouds the dimming glass, waits for his star to fall
A soft Languedoc rain
Ah, Aberdeen
A million starlings wheel and spin
Ah, Aberdeen
Hunters’ guns crackle and pop
Ah, Aberdeen
Warm croissants, the kettle hums
Ah, Aberdeen
Sunday morning wet and warm
Ah, Aberdeen
Ip, dip, dog shit
You are not it.
Silliness aside, that was lovely, HP.
Bonnie Chairlie’s noo awa’,
Safely ower the friendly main;
Mony a heart will break in twa’,
Should he ne’er come back again.
Will ye no come back again?
Will ye no come back again?
Better lo’ed ye canna be,
Will ye no come back again?
To mingle wi’ us in the sodden rain
Speed bonny boat
Like a Burt on the wing
Over the sea
To Thai
Land.
Safe journey; and thank you for that, it is beautiful.
Peter Cook and Alan Bennett – The Great Train Robbery
Pardon my possible ignorance…
I googled the first two lines, and the last two, to check who that was by, it being so corkingly wonderful I was convinced I had heard it before. Search results give me only this page, leading me to conclude you are the author.
Crikey, my friend, it’s a beaut and it made my chest do that kind of shivery swelly-up thing.
Safe trip.
Yes, that’s exactly what I did, too.
And it’s exactly how I felt about the poem.
For those who liked it, thank you. It’s about my Dad, the summer of ’41, not me, although I can see where it might blur.
I did wonder where the cut might be that still pillows with steam. What a glorious phrase.
PS Am I right to guess that the Ariel had two wheels, a Red Hunter perhaps?
A Red Hunter it was! And “the rattler” was the steam train headed for the same destination.
Excellent poem, HP. Liked it very much.
Wonderful H.P. Simply that.
As evocative and warm a leave taking as I have read. An evocation, not elegy. And at its heart, the fondest of farewells.
I’m off to my mother’s funeral tomorrow, and I had to come back here to read this evocative echo from an earlier age once more, a time that she shared too. Thank you again HP.
I’m sorry to hear of your loss VV. Hope tomorrow goes as well as it can and take care.
My condolences, Vulpes. Will think of you tomorrow.
So sorry to hear that Vulpes. Condolences; hope you’re able to keep thinking on the good times.
Best wishes, VV, to you and your family.
Sincere condolences Vulpes. Thinking of you and yours brother. X