I Kings 14:17
by john clare
The forgotten footfalls from a life of passing
Patiently brushing down to a smoothed bow
Broom straw strands scattered once fastened
Echoes of patters across the threshold of Tirzah.
Long has gone even the memory of little crossings
The lift of lightened limbs weighed in joy
Loveliness resting in the radiant dust clinging lost
Stirred by winds who knew the only boy.
To the threshold Tirzah comes to peer
Down the overgrown path of Camilla bloom
Who can know the joy of sorrow stooping here
The little one that ascended all too soon.
Forever on the bowed threshold Tirzah remains
The weeping winds forever whispering his name.
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