my feet have known the streets each long hot mile
the greyish dust has sunk into each toe
there's not a corner that i did not know
but i have not been back there a long while
i've not forgotten places on the isle
where in my youth i used to have to go
in a warm time when life was soft and slow
and what concerned us most were form and style
so much recalled yet so much that must count
in a new age when time has outreached rope
so that we find our feet have travelled far
from where each started on that rural mount
in a bright year when everyone had hope
unto this time beneath a troubled star