MORNING POEM - ALL THAT'S PAST

The trees are all beautifully coloured at present - I love the rusts, oranges and browns. 

I have always been a fan of Walter De La Mare and enjoy the following poem which I share this morning.

Very old are the woods;

And the buds that break

Out of the brier's boughs,

When March winds wake,

So old with their beauty are -

Oh, no man knows

Through what wild centuries

Roves back the rose.

Very old are the brooks;

And the rills that rise

Where snow sleeps cold beneath

The azure skies

Sing such a history

Of come and gone,

Their every drop is as wise

as Solomon.

Very old are we men;

Our dreams are tales

Told in dim Eden

By Eve's nightingales;

We wake and whisper awhile,

But, the day gone by,

Silence and sleep llike fields

Of amaranth lie.

Last week I went to a talk about the local hill forts which have been excavated over the last few years. I was told they can be dated back to 10,000 years BC - which made me think we are here for such a short time!