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Thu, 06 Aug 2009
I just remembered this from earlier

Young girl picking flowers.

A young girl picking flowers
does not count the hours
- to her the passing minutes
have no end or limit...

But in the bank and in the church
the minutes and the hours lurch
and 'though he tries, the priest or clerk
cannot make time flow in reverse.

At bus-stops and train stations
throughout Time's censused nations,
young children skip and pass between
the prison bars of Time's regime;

a young boy has no notion

of life's grim forward motion
but gaily plays with golden things

within the court of deathless Kings.

Yet Time is father to the man
and holds life's key and masterplan
- or so we trust and so we hope,
else all men's lives are but a joke.

But what grown man cannot but dream
of freedom from Time's dull regime?
and fondly he can still recall
the wooden toy and golden ball...

What fortune can such treasure buy?
Let merchant risk his soul to try

- his toil and effort will not yield
a day's release from Time's grey fields.

Yet, penniless, the children play
and own the world and all the day.
The boy that climbs the chestnut tree
partakes of some great Mystery
and the young girl with her flowers
is Queen of all the passing hours!

The Magic of Willowdown
Posted 18:58

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