Up round St John Street we walked one night,
while moonlight brightly glowed,
my arm around you, yours round me,
with two friends long ago,
so deep into love's old sweet dream
in moments now long flown,
and like a leaf upon the breeze
my heart was not my own.
Oh the road to winning you was fraught,
with quicksands all the way.
I sank and swam, I walked and ran,
I wooed you night and day,
to simply hold your hand so soft,
or gaze on eyes so blue,
in steep green fields at Clachanmore
when I worked next to you.
But no moon nor love could quite foresee
that I would wriggle free,
against my heart, against my will,
somewhat regretfully.
The roads we walked were soon to part,
to sever us for ill,
to leave the Crescent we once walked,
to ghosts that haunt me still.
And the thoughts that circle round me here,
all strengthen with the night.
as if the years have fallen to
that young love's breathless might;
your eyes beguiled the doubting stars
and left me void of sense,
before the moments we fell through
the gates of innocence.
Now the moonlight shines less brightly
on the lonely fields we cleared,
and St John Street is not as sweet
as when I held you, dear.
The friends we walked with on that night
still walk together yet
and their full moon's promise holds as true,
as when we two last met.
01 12 07
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem