For Belinda Hopkinson, A Light in this World.
A silent sun casts gentle light,
Through and o'er the little woodlands.
Here and there, little woodland walkers approach and pass away silently,
Into the deep green spaces where man has longed to dwell;
By White flower, shaded path and bluebell, who lie, quite still,
And wonder at the Aloneness of their quietened village.
Sometimes, a woodland walker abandons his home;
Little by little, he forgets his simplicity
Little by little, he is lowered into a dull misery.
And when he returns,
In an instant he finds what he has lost:
He re-remembers the deep green woods of the past,
And once more passes silently through those spaces,
By the White flowers, the bluebells, and the shaded paths.
Here now, a sweet promise arises within this holy forest,
That you yourself must here remain,
And for ever,
A merry little woodland walker.