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| R.E. Slater - The Song of the Wayfarer |
The Song of the Wayfarer
by R.E. Slater
We ran through the fields of youth,
gaily springing and jumping,
leaping and bounding, rock and
rile, each day as joyful as the last,
with hearts beating full and fast!
The years rolled by as did we,
neither slowing nor wasting,
built of love through good or bad,
in a restless world of restless duty,
full of mindful passion, full of time.
Long days of school finally passed,
with dating, marriage, family later,
ministries came and went, as did
eager brawls across many sports,
and family grew exploring, gazing.
All too soon, too soon, too soon,
when life was full, filled with love,
with joyful days lasting, passing,
ne'er to end until, at once, they did,
with every child's wandering passage.
Then joyous house grew empty,
with families grown and gone,
and spouse and I began anew,
as we had a few lifetimes back,
filled with parent's blessings.
These elder days were happiest too,
not wanting, nor unfilled, in their way,
perhaps discarded remnants to fey youth,
when we were young and in love,
full of dreams and strength and zest.
In time we too went the way of earth,
thankful, but sadden, a bit regretful,
living dreams as they could be lived,
living life as we had gleaned and grew,
then all passing, passing, one the other.
Our wayfarer song like so many others,
having trodden life from trial to trial,
path upon path, exploring, yearning,
energy cresting, ebbing, waning, waning,
until legs wore out and breath had passed.
Singing lilting tunes like passing minstrels,
joyously heralding fellowships sweet,
marking each hilly clime', each sodden
vex'ion, laid the foot of a rugged cross,
to lay thereto in peaceful repose at last.
R.E. Slater
September 25, 2021
rev. September 26, 2021
rev. September 28, 2021
@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved
“Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.”
- Mary Elizabeth Frye
Departures (Soundtrack)
No. 18 Okuribito (Memory)
by Joe Hisaishi
And Death Shall
Have No Dominion
by Dylan Thomas
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead man naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan’t crack;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
- Dylan Thomas
Departures (Soundtrack)
No. 19 Okuribito (Ending)
by Joe Hisaish
“You can shed tears that she is gone
Or you can smile because she has lived.”
- David Harkins
Olafur Arnalds - Happiness Does Not Wait
“Don’t think of me as gone away,
My journey’s just begun.
Life holds so many facets,
This earth is but one.”
- Ellen Brenneman
Max Richter - On The Nature Of Daylight (Entropy)
“Because I have loved life,
I shall have no sorrow to die.
I have sent up my gladness on wings,
To be lost in the blue of the sky.”
- Amelia Josephine Burr
Departures: Cello Solo
Funeral Blues
by W.H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
- W.H. Auden
Four Weddings & A Funeral
The North Ship
by Philip Larkin
I saw three ships go sailing by,
Over the sea, the lifting sea,
And the wind rose in the morning sky,
And one was rigged for a long journey.
The first ship turned towards the west,
Over the sea, the running sea,
And by the wind was all possessed
And carried to a rich country.
The second ship turned towards the east,
Over the sea, the quaking sea,
And the wind hunted it like a beast
To anchor in captivity.
The third ship drove towards the north,
Over the sea, the darkening sea,
But no breath of wind came forth,
And the decks shone frostily.
The northern sky rose high and black
Over the proud unfruitful sea,
East and west the ships came back
Happily or unhappily:
But the third went wide and far
Into an unforgiving sea
Under a fire-spilling star,
And it was rigged for a long journey.
- Philip Larkin
Poetry Of Departures
by Philip Larkin
Sometimes you hear, fifth-hand,
As epitaph:
He chucked up everything
And just cleared off,
And always the voice will sound
Certain you approve
This audacious, purifying,
Elemental move.
And they are right, I think.
We all hate home
And having to be there:
I detest my room,
It's specially-chosen junk,
The good books, the good bed,
And my life, in perfect order:
So to hear it said
He walked out on the whole crowd
Leaves me flushed and stirred,
Like Then she undid her dress
Or Take that you bastard;
Surely I can, if he did?
And that helps me to stay
Sober and industrious.
But I'd go today,
Yes, swagger the nut-strewn roads,
Crouch in the fo'c'sle
Stubbly with goodness, if
It weren't so artificial,
Such a deliberate step backwards
To create an object:
Books; china; a life
Reprehensibly perfect.
- Philip Larkin
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends
It gives a lovely light!
- Edna St.Vincent Millay
And when the stream that overflows has passed,
A consciousness remains upon the silent shore of memory;
Images and precious thoughts that shall not be
And cannot be destroyed.
- William Wordsworth,
Images and precious thoughts that shall not be
And cannot be destroyed.
- William Wordsworth,
from "The Excursion"
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now forever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind.
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind.
- William Wordsworth,
"Intimations of Immortality"
Joe Hisaishi, London Symphonic Orchestra Melodyphony
