Thursday, 17 November 2011

THESE REMAIN

FALLEN MAJESTY

Although crowds gathered once if she but showed her face,
And even old men's eyes grew dim, this hand alone,
Like some last courtier at a gypsy camping-place
Babbling of fallen majesty, records what's gone.

The lineaments, a heart that laughter has made sweet,
These, these remain, but I record what's gone. A crowd
Will gather, and not know it walks the very street
Whereon a thing once walked that seemed a burning cloud.

W.B.Yeats

1 comment:

  1. Leaving Nancy

    In comes the train and the whole platform shakes
    It stops with a shudder and a screaming of brakes
    The parting has come and my weary soul aches
    I'm leaving my Nancy, oh

    But you stand there so calmly determinedly gay
    And you talk of the weather and events of the day
    But your eyes tell me all that your tongue doesn't say
    Goodbye my Nancy, oh

    And come a little closer
    Put your head upon my shoulder
    And let me hold you one more time
    Before the whistle blows

    My suitcase is lifted and stowed on the train
    And a thousand regrets whirl around in my brain
    And the ache in my heart is a black sea of pain
    I'm leaving my Nancy, oh

    And you stand there beside me so lovely to see
    But the grip of your hand is an unspoken plea
    You're not fooling yourself and you're not fooling me
    Goodbye my Nancy, oh

    And come a little closer
    Lay your head upon my shoulder
    And let me hold you one more time
    Before the whistle blows

    But our time has run out and the whistle has blown
    And here I must leave you standing alone
    We had so little time and now the time's gone
    Goodbye my Nancy, oh

    And as the train starts gently to roll
    And as I lean out for to wave and to call
    I see your first tears trickle and fall
    Goodbye my Nancy, oh

    And come a little closer
    Put your head upon my shoulder
    And let me hold you one more time
    Before the whistle blows
    And come a little closer
    Put your head upon my shoulder
    And let me hold you one last time
    Before the whistle blows

    ReplyDelete

I welcome comments , just not obscenities or malicious attacks on others. The keyword of the Dew of Hermon is harmony, which means not always agreement but always respect and brotherly love.