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Sonnet on the passing of Ellen
There is a garden with an old apple tree
And flower borders round the lawn
And ripe tomatoes in the conservatory
Where my soul greets the fresh dawn
And wanders the long day till it closes,
Pausing to hear the song of the birds,
Bending to smell the fragrant roses,
And this is somewhere beyond words,
Somewhere beyond the trace of time,
No seconds to tick, no hour to chime.
I am now at rest in this peaceful place
No harm can come to me, no illness
Befall me and no worries trouble me,
My soul wanders light-hearted and free
In this garden with the old apple tree.
i.m. Ellen Catherine Archer (1924-2016), my aunt.
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