Anne Barbara Ridler (30 July 1912 – 15 October 2001 / Rugby, England)
Under cool trees the City tombs
extend, and nearer lie
stones above Blake's and Bunyan's bones
to Vivian's working days than I.
Since he is gentle, wild and good
as you were, peaceable Shades,
there may he go within your care
as in my heart his love resides.
Such a care as held unharmed
the tree within the fire;
spread wings like those that led
Tobias in the dangerous shire.
And if I fear his death too much,
let me not learn more faith
by sad trial of what I dread,
nor grieve him by my own death.
For our faith is one which may
convert but not console:
we shall not, except by our own will,
part for ever in the gape of hell.
Comments about this poem (Bunhill’s Fields by Anne Barbara Ridler )
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