Song

for Rebecca, Emily, Emma, Jennifer
on their last day

Here in the richest loveliest wood
are four tall flowers. Four magical pearls:
if I could gather them up, I would.

Beside each yearning stem I’ve stood,
each petal-cluster that spreads and curls,
here in the richest loveliest wood.

Its brilliance may not be withstood,
as each one in the dusk-air swirls.
If I could carry them off, I would.

Soon to depart for gown and hood,
a fresh-faced zaniness spins and whirls,
here in the richest loveliest wood.

They’re gone – it’s not to be understood.
The broken earth its insult hurls.
If I could conjure them back, I would.

I’m an old teacher up to no good.
It was my paradise, my four girls,
here in the richest loveliest wood.
If I could marry them all, I would!