The fire has gone out
The last flicker gone
Nothing but aching gout
To weather the coming storm.
The Children have gone away
Wafted to the South
Where they will forget how to pray
After the passing age of doubt.
Once it was warm here
In the sun-baked month of June
Each with a mug of beer
And Juno with a tune.
Sometimes we heard of earthquakes
And Typhoons in foreign parts
But here only the showers came
And not very much at that.
But now the arteries stiffen.
And the cold shroud descends
And that silent companion loneliness
Says deaths is at the door
But I can hear Bells ringing
Clear as the Virgin Spring
Now they seem to be shouting
Death is only a dream.
