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Sunday, 12 August 2012

Reflections

I've been thinking about the past a lot recently. I'm not sure why my mind keeps wandering backwards but it does so there I am.

Specific events that have come to shape my life play back like clips from a late night movie. Atmospheric and hazy; i wonder how much the images may be distorted, like looking into a flea market mirror that has rusted with time.



Image courtesy of leoraandhartley

Browsing through text to experience the past musings of others I found this poem by Abraham Lincoln. I think it is beautiful so I copy it here for you to enjoy


                                          Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865)
                                               from My Childhood-Home I See Again


                                                   My childhood's home I see again,
                                                       And sadden with the view;
                                               And still, as memory crowds my brain,
                                                        There's pleasure in it too.
                                                    O Memory! thou midway world
                                                       'Twixt earth and paradise,
                                             Where things decayed and loved ones lost
                                                         In dreamy shadows rise,
                                                  And, freed from all that's earthly vile,
                                                    Seem hallowed, pure, and bright,
                                                 Like scenes in some enchanted isle
                                                         All bathed in liquid light.
                                                  As dusky mountains please the eye
                                                       When twilight chases day;
                                                     As bugle-tones that, passing by,
                                                           In distance die away;
                                                   As leaving some grand waterfall,
                                                      We, lingering, list its roar—
                                                      So memory will hallow all
                                                 We've known, but know no more.
                                              Near twenty years have passed away
                                                       Since here I bid farewell
                                             To woods and fields, and scenes of play,
                                                     And playmates loved so well.
                                                Where many were, but few remain
                                                           Of old familiar things;
                                                  But seeing them, to mind again
                                                     The lost and absent brings.
                                                The friends I left that parting day,
                                                 How changed, as time has sped!
                                    Young childhood grown, strong manhood gray,
                                                      And half of all are dead.
                                                  I hear the loved survivors tell
                                              How nought from death could save,
                                                  Till every sound appears a knell,
                                                      And every spot a grave.
                                              I range the fields with pensive tread,
                                                  And pace the hollow rooms,
                                               And feel (companion of the dead)
                                                     I'm living in the tombs.






1 comment:

Kathryn said...

Powerful poem . . .I can often be found reflecting on the past. I too wonder how much of it is distorted with time.