I.
To what love can my life be acclaimed,
Fleeting as a piper’s tune,
As it marches o’er the village green
On a sky blue, summer afternoon?
As it lingers there, upon the grass
Each blade, each leaf, one thousand ears…
What memory, what aching heart
Will still be there one thousand years?
That those who pass by, through time again
May stop to rest, or breathe the air…
And hear the whispered melody,
What note, what cleft will still be there?
II.
Of what love shall I be ashamed,
Elusive as a fortnight dream
That tantalizes consciousness,
With ne’er its meaning to be gleaned?
As it lingers there, upon the day,
With flittered scenes and vague unrest,
What shame will be held in its memory,
What pleasured sighs or reaching breast?
That o’er and o’er, o’er all the years,
I have dreamed, then dreamed again
For one true love to outlive time,
For a love in a world without end.
III.
For what love will my life be acclaimed,
For the mother, the poet, the seer?
For the woman, the lover, the person,
Who wrote love on the back of a tear?
Will the poems I leave do me justice,
Will the lovers I’ve left do me fair…
Tell the tale of a love unrequited,
Hum the song on a village square?
That tho' o’er and o’er, I’ve loved you
Ne’er are you e'er to be found,
Like the fleeting tune of the piper
That lingers in town after town.
For what love will my life be acclaimed,
For the mother, the poet, the seer?
For the woman, the lover, the person,
Who wrote love on the back of a tear?
If this were a multiple choice question, I'd have to answer, "All of the above." I genuinely like the rhyming verses at the end, although everything about this is excellent.
Joe
Thank you kindly, dear sir. I haven't written much for quite some time, but have thankfully been inspired of late.
Mary
Beautifully done, Mary, good to see your posts.
Les