I heard the bells of Barnet church rise and fall

Like leaves upon the gusting wind,

The moon, glimpsed between the clouds, where thinned

Shone down upon the cobbled streets

High towers glistened from the streetlight

Sheets

of rain dashed down upon my face,

And stormy silence, in a torrent, filled that place.

The country stretched before me to the trees

and fields, and dark deserted lanes,

The city loomed behind me in a rush of soot and dirty trains

And life, my life itself seemed poised

Amid these giant and dreadful powers

As thunder, and the church-bells

Tolled the day's last dying hours.

"Think Not Of Darkest Night."

When this year is long cast aside;

         Obscure in recollection,

Faded thoughts will flutter by, like yellowed pages in a

                                        book

And memories, like sepia photographs,

   will be entombed, enshrined, a treasure, in the palace

                                        of the past.

Think not of darkest night; we cannot seek to conquer Our turbulent and troubled minds- scenes not of love or laughter.

Only hold me close to you,

My love, for ever after.

HJM