All watch Violet in the lane,

Kissing Mister Toad again,

Does she think that we don’t know

Of how they carry on…?

Violet doesn’t understand –

The rumours, now, are out of hand,

Does she think that we don’t know

The secret of Mister Toad…?

Rumours here

And whispers there –

Violet shrinks ‘cause the Toad don’t care,

Does she think that we don’t know

She’s at his every whim…?

Now Violet comes to understand

This Toad plays only underhand,

Yet, still she thinks that we don’t know

The secret of Mister Toad…

He has warts upon his skin

And no one knows quite where he’s been,

And we don’t like him,

We dislike him,

We don’t like him very much  at all…

Maybe, Violet,

You could be my bride –

Stand for ever

Right here, by my side.

Maybe, Violet,

You could hold my hand,

But I know that you wouldn’t understand…

See a girl who lost her dreams –

Through the holes ripped in her seams,

Watch her pine her life away,

Since Mister Toad hopped away.

‘cause Mister Toad didn’t want to play –

Mister Toad just  hopped away…

And, just for a moment,

The world paused from turning,

Lost in the depths

Of a dark diamond sky,

Black August velvet –

Bestowing serenity,

And no one else saw them;

Just you there, and I…

I looked up for hope,

An end to the sorrow,

And a bright star came falling –

From Heavens on high,

I held your hand

And knew you were smiling,

No words broke that silence –

No sound, save your sigh…

And yet, still another,

Came down, silent, sailing,

A second wish granted

To send upon high,

And I still remember

The peace that we sought there,

Beneath russet Moon

And glittering sky…

So cherish these memories,

Burned now for ever,

Let them live in your heart –

There, never to die,

And remember the joy

Of those stars which came falling,

And those moments of magic,

For you, and for I.

And once again soft scented breezes
Caressed the perfection of morning,
Sighing from nowhere,
Heading anywhere – everywhere.
Rustling restless motions
Searching amidst the wild growth
Of the roadside
Dandelions; Poppies;
Burdocks; Teazle;
Long grasses,
Rippled.

And in far flung fields and around
An astounding blaze –
Yellow and gold
Snatched my breath,
Left me for a moment without.
What towering giants stood there,
Heads upturned towards azure sky,
And the blazing eye,
Far above…?

So tall and fair these massed ranks –
Swayed by sweet breath of summer,
Lost in a whispered conversation –
Hushed to all but themselves
They nodded and smiled
A mutual agreement
To silent sentiments
Only they could comprehend.

And then far away a sudden burst
Of birdsong, carrying down the breeze;
As though her very heart might break
If that melody were to stop
Before it reached Heaven above.
And I thought I understood
The nodding of those flowers
Growing all around.
And for an instant
I thought I knew
There was a God
And the world
Was at peace,
Tranquil
Still.

Dazed and bewildered
Standing ‘pon stygian shores
Of midnight’s deepest myre,
Drowned in darkness,
There exists no sight;
No sound –
Seems no sense at all.
Nothing is fresh.
There is no life;
No breath –
Bereft even
Of welcome death.
Feels no sense at all.
Nothing thrives or grows – Under realm and reign
Of Nocturne’s fallen Darkling Prince.
Stillness of smothersome silence encroaches
‘pon everything around,
Leaving naught but slow fade
of human memory.
Wracked and ruined rubble –
Fallen; falling still,
From vaulten gilded firmaments filled
With beautiful, fire-fretted dreams of an ancient world –
Paradise long lost,
Where soft spreadling wings
Once bore a fool aloft –
With laughter, light,
All that went before –
A Tower for to build.

So look you…!
And cast your eyes not down.
Gaze thee ‘pon a tragic, benighted fool.
Look now –
And see him very well.
One who hoped – oft-times ventured
That his tower might reach the Moon,
’til he smote at its foundations,
Laying waste to all around
Paralysed and useless –
Fool’s tower hit the ground …

Now ’tis very dark here –
And I can’t find my way
Home.

The Trollimoste- Gumbell dids’t lumberode forth
To espy, whereupon he coulds’t fathom.
He perused a course of Westerly-North
’til he chanced on the Uppermost Lathom.

“Oh dearest Lathom“, the Trollimoste said,
Pray what is the secret of greatness…?
And the Lathom replied –
In the Trollimoste’s head –
“Sliced bread, and a penchant for lateness“.

The Trollimoste-Gumbell dids’t whiffle away
With a dose of Great-Ego-Inflatus,
And he said to himself
“Therefore, to be great
I’ll eat bread and be known for me lateness“.

Several years passed –
Neither slowly nor fast,
And the Trollimoste kept to his vigil.
But no greatness became,
Nor fortune, nor fame,
Though he dids’t meets a Trollimoste-Girgil.

So once more our drear Trollimoste lumberade forth –
Great riddle forto unrathom,
He perused that old course –
One of Westerly-North
’til he chanced upon said Lathom.

“Oh dearest Lathom“, the Trollimoste sighed,
“Pray, why’m I not great, just like you…?”
And the Lathom replied
“That’s b’cause I lied, 
But you took silly words at face value“.

And the moral to this sordiest tale…?
Don’t be like the Trollimoste-Gumbell.
When conversing whith Lathoms
– By word OR by tail –
Don’t try to be great
Just be
Humble.