William Fay
William Fay Poems
I see captain your ruined ships,
Ghostly off Crete, off Mullaghmore,
Where your crew sinks through
Pools of fire, the dark waters,
...
Remember a green isle and our sunken boat?
Ask and I shall brave it all, sea and river,
To seek shelter this winter and float
...
I shall die waiting in this harbour town,
Tangled my love in the spider's thread;
Like the fishermen's net, cast out at dawn.
Like lines upon maps, where the black ships go,
...
Wait sadness. I know tonight you must come,
But wait. Let me hide like the sleepy owl,
Until day's end, silent in the warm barn,
In the summer tree. O falling leaf at dusk,
...
Do you remember our first garden?
How tall we let the grass grow;
How the wild roe would roam, quiet,
To the apple tree, to the acre of swamp,
...
Time should be a circle without end,
Not the dead straight, too final line.
No, we shan't meet again my friend.
...
Upon Trow Point I know the lovers have fled;
Their pulsing rock is gone below the sea.
I saw you waiting, black and white, ghostly,
...
We shall spread our blanket soft
Beneath the heavy tree;
We shall sleep entwined,
Like the long branches above.
...
Tonight I light this candle;
Then watch the quiet flame
Sigh and awake,
Like the black wing come slow
...
I.
Tonight I light this candle;
To watch a quiet flame,
...
I.1914
To Trow Point keen lovers shall come no more;
Their pagan rock, the altar of binding vows,
...
The Best Poem Of William Fay
September
1
Paul's smart in blazer, tie.
We wait by the wych elm
And gate through
Which we are thrown, from
One realm, our Summer
Larks in the wild field,
Toward another like a bed of cut grass.
Or hook gathering up these
Harvest days, toward
Haunted realms and what
Remains... like chalk
Bones feeding the field.
'Caritas Christi Urget Nos'.
The bell, the first and last bell.
On we go, the gate and the door,
Through new kingdoms, this harvest hall.
2
Our school is gone.
A fresh breed capers on
In the ruin and field.
Here the quiet snake crawls.
Bats roost in steeple and ruined towers.
We hear the night owl.
Soon the field measured is dug.
Behind wire and gate, new estates form.
When I return that September
The dry leaves fall early.
A combine and yellow loader chug by
Older we linger in such realms
These haunted places long after
Summer or exile where this
Prodigals return is realised...
In the night I am summoned home.
3
Waiting, I see by chance, a teacher of ours
Wheeled through a hospital ward.
'Caritas Christi Urget Nos'.
I had come to watch my Mother die.
During the long night, before the end, a stranger
Feeds our Sir with a plastic spoon and toddler's cup.
I remember for you, soaked in water,
The last mercy of a foam lollipop.
Sometimes in a mirror or quiet pool
In the bronze and russet wood
I see again the grey shape of a skull
And the bone finger pointing to a door.
On we go, stroke like this season,
Through a hall of ghosts,
The haunted red wood and dim bridge
Toward realms of no return.
4
'I have heard the last bell.
The bell invites me.'
Somewhere, an archer. The arrow is fired,
Then by the gate, falls.
Here the road ends, the usual ways.
Times gate closing. Then black smoke and ash
Swept like memory away with the
Fallen leaves and dried out bouquets.
Oh! slain Prince, our Queen, wait
Like winter's bird where the conker stone,
The dried apple stud this frosted turf,
Here, where the elms rich promise will again
Bloom by the church, the sweet flower gate
In lost Spring and Summer kingdoms
Our ghosts, my Mother, our schoolfriends
Before harvest and September's next intake.
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4/26/2024 3:10:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I enjoyed reading this poem. I did not grow up where you did, but it reminds me of my own childhood. It brings back the nostalgia for the past, for the times past. thanks for writing so truthfully. This tells universal growing up story. Love it! I have had to re-read it and I got even more in this read than I did at first.