Applegarth
There is a garden where the sun
reflects from rough cast whitewashed walls.
Close by the quiet river runs
here you can hear the soft bird calls.
The scents of lavender and sage,
which grow near to the lilac trees.
Compete with fields of blue borage
ich draw to them the questing bees.
The lawn of moorland turf is neat
and everywhere the flowers bloom.
The honey smell of meadowsweet
is mingling with the perfumed broom.
This garden is a sheltered spot.
Where old and tired from the fray
I sit and doze when it is hot
and ponder in my quiet way.
I think about the things I’ve seen
and well loved people I have known
The many places I have been
in travels ‘fore I was full grown.
My wandering feet have carried me
to distant lands of snow and ice.
Some lands without a single tree
and tropic isles like paradise.
I always yearned to go back home
but there was always more to see
When I was young I had to roam
across the world by land and sea.
My questing mind gave me no peace
hard lessons I was forced to learn.
Wisdom granted me release
a truth I found I had to earn.
The fire of youth burns low with age.
springy step turns to measured tread
I learnt my quest was a mirage
and came back to where I was bred
Although it’s changed it’s still the same.
I see it now through different eyes
and seek no more for fortunes fame.
I realise to my surprise
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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