It may be impossible to perfectly portray,
How joyfully you walked the meadow away.
To sit against your reading tree on a beautiful day,
Oh, the words of love I could not bring myself to say.
How close might we have grown?
If in that moment I had known,
To kneel, to beg God to postpone --
An illness unseen, a fate unknown.
As your head -- fell to rest,
I thought no other could be so blest.
As to nap in the place they loved best,
Though your heart lay idle inside your chest.
There, in the meadow - beside your tree,
Is where I placed a rose for thee.
For it was your favorite place to be,
And where I keep you in my memory.
When you came near I always fled,
My heart felt love, while my brain saw red.
And now my hands hold my head,
'I love you, my lovely dead'...
Mar 12, 2010
Mar 12, 2010 at 9:26 PM UTC
It may be impossible to perfectly portray,
How joyfully you walked the meadow away.
To sit against your reading tree on a beautiful day,
Oh, the words of love I could not bring myself to say.
How close might we have grown?
If in that moment I had known,
To kneel, to beg God to postpone --
An illness unseen, a fate unknown.
As your head -- fell to rest,
I thought no other could be so blest.
As to nap in the place they loved best,
Though your heart lay idle inside your chest.
There, in the meadow - beside your tree,
Is where I placed a rose for thee.
For it was your favorite place to be,
And where I keep you in my memory.
When you came near I always fled,
My heart felt love, while my brain saw red.
And now my hands hold my head,
'I love you, my lovely dead'...
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In the Meadow by Nathan Elliott Stephen Green
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