Before We Part Poem by David Lewis Paget

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.

20 March 1985