Lament On The Echoing Green Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

to William Blake, to Walter De La Mare...
and to my mother

'the hidden emerald of a far off day...'
she began to say but
coming or going? queried her angels
as if dressed by Kate Greenaway.

'I don't know; it's the sheen of the day
that matters, not that it slipped away.
may it ever be raspberry, '
she smiled.

it slipped away.
and the halo of her stories shone
after the angel departed,
I heard over Christmas vacation.

oh remain my heart's mirage she murmured.
from heaven

and the geranium border
in the garden faded.
oh where have the clouds gone

that shimmered in the air
where poetry was spoken
on the earlier, the echoing green?

mary angela douglas 4 may 2014