This weekend gone we have changed our clocks back from British Summertime to GMT and the difference is immediately noticeable. The coldness has snapped back in, though that’s probably due to the wonderful cloudless sunny days we’ve had and we have the sharp smells of coal and wood fires being lit as we walk home in the early darkness. With eagerness I find Autumns treats knowing that Winter is around the corner. I love this time of year. It’s good for reflection and starting anew, becoming more aware of our surroundings as everything seems clearer after the heated haze of summer. As this is also the time of year when we remember our ancestors I thought I’d share a poem that my Grandfather wrote. Hope you like it.
One hour to delay the coming Winter.
‘Tis winter time, wind back the clocks,
We have an hour to spend:
A bonus from the day in spring
When time was free to lend.
Waste not that hour when the clock strikes two
In restless sleep unplanned;
For we may live luxuriously,
With golden time in hand.
Across the hills, let’s greet the sun,
That fades the waning moon,
And wake the birds upon the bough
For we may call the tune.
And tread a path through autumn leaves,
In woodlands golden brown,
Or in the breeze that sweeps the street,
Lets dance throughout the town.
Feel free to spend each precious tick,
On treasures quaint and rare,
Or give a moment to a friend
Now that we have time to spare.
And if one part of summer-time
Was rashly spent before,
Then hold my hand and take this chance
To spend that hour once more.
One hour to delay the coming Winter.
‘Tis winter time, wind back the clocks,
We have an hour to spend:
A bonus from the day in spring
When time was free to lend.
Waste not that hour when the clock strikes two
In restless sleep unplanned;
For we may live luxuriously,
With golden time in hand.
Across the hills, let’s greet the sun,
That fades the waning moon,
And wake the birds upon the bough
For we may call the tune.
And tread a path through autumn leaves,
In woodlands golden brown,
Or in the breeze that sweeps the street,
Lets dance throughout the town.
Feel free to spend each precious tick,
On treasures quaint and rare,
Or give a moment to a friend
Now that we have time to spare.
And if one part of summer-time
Was rashly spent before,
Then hold my hand and take this chance
To spend that hour once more.
copyright sja2001/PRISM Books
