Before We Part

For my father...

And you, my father

Who cast my light

In the dim mists

At my mother’s art -

The road narrows,

The pace speeds

And you may fall

Before we part.

 

Your threescore years

And ten are run,

And you must weary

At each stile

For somewhere soon

The stranger waits

In the long shades

By the dark mile.

 

And he will beckon

You with him

To leave us grieving

Every one,

No time to speak

Or bid goodbye

Just mute dismay

Once you are gone.

 

So should you wonder

As you turn

To glance behind

And leave us here;

We love you well -

This much you’ve won;

What else, you’ll find

Will wait you there.

 

David Lewis Paget