Ode to a Buxton Weekend
© 2003
My heart sings, and a wondrous presence fills
my sense, as though of Heaven I had drunk,
or found a path that leads through woods and rills
where many times I’ve walked, and often sunk
into the depths of joy. Until we part,
when, gathering my love, wishing to stay —
to take into my breath the quiet air
whilst thou art filling up my soul and heart
with such an ecstasy —
still dost thou sing, and I long to be there.
But thou dost fade, when I have gone away
and what is treasure in proximity
must be dismissed (though I leave and it stays)
when I am full and my life calls to me.
Now more than ever seems it rich to live
so I depart and I am not bereft.
Although (for joy) when I am there I weep,
the world remains, and I have much to give.
The music stays — I’ve left;
and something in me sleeps.