Saturday, February 19, 2011

'Tis Only In Fancy Now

'Tis only in fancy now i climb to old Clara Hill
And hear the blackbird with the bright golden bill
Sing in the high woodland of green Claramore
A long way far north of this southern shore
When hawthorns are cloaked in their blooms of white to gray
And the old fields do wear their wildflowers of the May
And the nesting birds sing from dawn till gloam of day
The memories of what was with me will surely stay
Of my boyhood years as well as my life's prime
Till the Reaper on my life eventually calls time
The migrant nostalgia i can understand
Our memories come with us from another Land
The grass lush and green after recent Spring rain
As in fancy i walk in the old fields again.

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