Gordon G Hall
Writer and Neo-Philhellene


An elergy to my much loved flacoat

Remember me in the summer sun, high larks singing,
The rushing beck, the heather-scent, the open moor inviting,
The endless days, the ripening wheat, the bat-studded gloaming,
The hay-time lates, the velvet nights. . . . . As a cloud shadow passing.

Remember me in the Autumn mists, sharp game-birds rising,
The web-draped hedge, the cartridge smell, the wild wind storming,
The clarty plough, the rain-cold kale, the days-end towelling,
The orchard glut, the harvest-home . . . . . As a ‘gone away’ a' blowing.

Remember me in the snow-filled lane, the laden boughs drooping,
The crackling lake, the rook-stark trees, the bird-bath-braking,
The beet-mud road, the toasting fork, the lantern-hung caroling,
The warming hearth, the cheering cup. . . . . . . As a Yule Log burning.

Remember me in the bud-burst spring, the leafing and the flowering,
The green-tipped field, the gamboling lambs, a chorus sung at morning,
But grieve you not with saddened heart, the time was mine – for passing,
My life was good, so remember me . . . . . in each new life that’s dawning.


Distant Fells
Inspiration from this glorious world.