The Arts

I know that when I leave this house

I know that when I leave this house

The things I now regard with scorn,

This kettle with its scalding spout,

The soiled brown carpet long outworn,

Will in my parting gaze reveal

The aura of some gloried crown;

The peeling paper in the hall

Looks on the stairs a child ran down.

Each tattered object that I see

Will glow with warmth of homely ways;

Life’s talismans that, carelessly,

I valued not until the day.

How do we cast so lightly by

These things which human touch have known?

Hearts would prefer some soothing lie

To living mindful of such woe

As one day leaving all that’s dear

And stepping outward toward vague fate;

A veil that’s woven of small cares

And hemmed with silver thread of tears

Obscures the stone beyond the gate

And damps the pulse of fleeting years.

A Memory of Parting

(10/12/04)

The season of death is stealing in,

The mist-filled wood smells of decay.

This time four fleeting years ago

I saw you last, then went away.

Called from this blazing autumn vale,

I travelled far to your bedside.

There, in a foreign, open land

Low mezquites crouched resaca-side.

That arrid place was your first home,

Land of your sweet, ill-fated birth.

There in a hammock bathed by sun

You first knew love upon the earth.

The circle of your life closed fast;

We knew the time would not be long.

It was my gift to leave you last;

As you slept I sang a song:

“Now I am going to the harbour

“Where one meets the ship of gold

“That must bear me away.

“ Now I am going;

“ I have come only to say farewell.

“Goodbye, my love; goodbye forever, goodbye.

“Never more will your eyes look upon me,

“Nor your ears hear my singing.

“ I will deepen the ocean with my tears.

“Goodbye, my love; goodbye forever, goodbye.”

- Submitted by Emily Murphey