So long, Adieu,
Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye
for another year.
The festive Season has been a very long one this year,
but, finally, it's over.
is going back into the shed.
Yes, there are three of them,
no, you are not seeing triple,
even if you have had a very generous drinks allowance.
Standing under the plum tree
I look over towards the Church and the hills beyond,
nothing moves, neither man nor beast.
Clunton and Clunbury,
Clungunford and Clun,
Are the quietest places under the sun.
Dare I risk going for a walk?
I have an errand at the Surgery,
a prescription needs to be filled.
I'll cross the river by the little footbridge
over the Clun.
It should be passable.
In valleys of springs and rivers,
By Ony and Teme and Clun,
The country for easy livers,
The quietest under the sun.
Better be careful here,
Where there was water there is now ice;
The river meadow is treacherous underfoot.
Into my heart an air that kills
from yon far country blows;
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
There is a lot more snow in those purple clouds,
perhaps I had better stop dawdling and taking pictures;
the Surgery is not far now.
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
The Surgery !
Will they really make me wait outside?
Perhaps they are trying to discourage patients coming in on a day like today.
poems A.E. Housman - A Shropshire Lad