Alone, at Durham
Comes a horseman, in Winter, To the greatest cathedral north of the Alps; It is the end of an old tale. Bespectacled, with grey hears, In the mirror I view his face; He once sent his voice around the world. All he has now is pen, paper and the memory, The distant tide of faith fast receding; Snow, ice and the mad mists beckon. Came a horseman, in Summer, From the morning to the citadel; The days of honey licking the silver tongue. 'Love is a vapour, we're soon through it.' Uncle Basil had no more success than I; I tilted my head at all the rainbows. Comes a horseman, in Winter, By Heighington village to the Raby Hunt Inn; Thru fog, ice and snow to a welcoming fire.
© 1989 Douglas Clark
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