The scent of daisies:
And I am a child again,
Lying on my stomach in the grass,
Watching the teeming earth with eyes
That haven’t seen it all before. The sky,
A bluer blue than older eyes can see,
Explains infinity.
A half-heard tune, and old emotions rise,
Catching the throat. A half recalled regret
Pussies me with forgotten loss – of what?
It surely mattered then.
A movement in the dusk – half seen,
And ancient fears raise the neck hairs,
Sustaining apprehension.
Despite the anodyne of Reason
Monsters lurk.
Yet should we return to shrunken schoolyards
And see the lilliputian desks, the half size toilet pans,
It is no use.
We will only see Children teaching children;
The godlike omnipotence of teachers
An affectation of posturing youth.
It is no help to us to know
Today will be a rosy-tinted Past
In future years.
The words, once written down,
Slip imperceptibly behind;
Second after Second after Second,
Tomorrow’s nostalgia.

H.St. V.B. 1980