Recalling Daisy Bell

 

And when the Age of Hailin’ Shadow Steele
Came afore the din of Man’s defeated kneel,
A visiting afterthought took shape in mind—

A village green where men played bowls
In cricket-white, hair of grey, adorned straw hats,
Where they had played for decades long;
Childer follied across the pitch in fanfare—
The elders laughed without irony at the innocence.

White and red blanket laid ’pon grass
To deter the jam-seeking ants, and to catch
The crumbs of breadcakes that’d fell
From hands of clumsy summer reveling;
Patter of feet as childer reached the river’s ebbing edge.

And Daisy Bell was nowhere to be seen—
O, where is my Daisy Bell?

La’al Ratty steamed still near Eskdale,
And lovers sat in the carriages, kissing
As the land unfurled its cloudless,
Rainless glory; a day to reminisce
On in many years’ future: captured in sepia tone—

Those wrinkled smiles of ancestors
Stare back, and your gaze meets your own as well:
You think of lovers now since past,
That hay-haired lassie with whom you
Rolled in the grass, before the Age of Hailin’ Shadow Steele.

And Daisy Bell is nowhere to be seen—
O, where is my Daisy Bell now?

 

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