Poetry

A Memory of Chelmsley Wood.

This poem was sent to mac by Mrs S. Holmes:

Death of Chelmsley Wood

The sheer delight of summer afternoons,
As through the fields in cotton frocks we walked,
The long grass licking at our gangly legs,
While we in deep contentment laughed and talked.
The pure joy of living was all ours,
As we ran free in peaceful meadows green,
And sought the edge of every farmer’s field,
So’s not to spoil the yellow corn between.
It was so quiet there, so very still,
With Grazing cows contented as they lay,
Have you reached for heaven as you jumped the stream,
Have you lain on your back in the grass,
Have you felt the joy of the songbird’s cry
And watched the aeroplanes pass,
Have you been a child in Marston Green,
And leaned from the station bridge,
When the village was small and the fields were green,
Like a carpet over the ridge.
Like an endless landscape clothed in the gold
Of a sleepy hamlet’s love,
Which bathed the cottages built of old,
With its light all around and above.
Have you seen the cricket whites on the village green,
Or the golfers out on the course,
Have you read of the past in the churchyard,
Or fed a country horse?
Or is yours the world of concrete blocks,
And pavements that ring with deceit?
Do you breathe the air of other men,
Does the dust lie under your feet?
Are you money-mad, do you cheat and lie,
Do you rush everywhere without heed?
Do you act abrupt, do you step on men
When you know that there is no need?
Is yours the world where the little man
Does not have a chance to breathe,
Where he lives and dies unnoticed,
Except for obligatory wreaths.
And when it all stops, and you listen,
And you rest as the planes go by,
You’ll think of yourself and Marston Green,
Lying next to each other to die.
They’ll remember the place that was living,
The place that you helped to destroy,
They’ll remember your schemes and ideas,
Marston Green they’ll remember for ‘Joy’.

-1990’s.

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