Two poems from Cyril, the bookshop owner, 55 years ago today. There he is, pouring his heart out to his muse. And then, suddenly back to reality in his sign-off to let Marianne, his revered customer, know that he was off on his summer holidays for a fortnight...
Who has not looked into your lovely eyes
And left behind more than mere memory?
Did not I seek for countless weary days
To find among the stars, the skies,
Each limpid pool, the running rivulet,
The glistening dewdrops on fresh morning lawns,
Deep lonely lakeland tarns and meres where
All the mysteries of earth and sky are held
Imprisoned for eternity? - their glory?
I sought in vain the paths
Of rain where every gleaming leaf
Lay diamond-wise;
I spent long hours in contemplating
Ever changing seas, even the haloes
Of the moon where her magnificence had cast
A fairy veil about the sky.
All these and more, I vainly sought
Until at last the goal
Of all things beautiful, your eyes
I saw again, and there found paradise.
18/6/1959
Now I am come to lengthened pain
Who once before the gates of Paradise
Did stand, and would have entered there
Had I the merits of your price.
O fearful agony!
How shall I bear the ruth
And scourge of bitter time
Without consoling youth?
18/6/1959
I shall be away for a fortnight from Tuesday next
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