Sunday, 23 February 2014

The Sunday Posts 2014/ The Way Through The Woods



They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.
Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate,
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because they see so few)
You will hear the beat of a horse’s feet
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods….
But there is no road through the woods.
 
Rudyard Kipling.
Photo By Alistair.

1 comment:

Bovey Belle said...

A lovely poem - I thought it was going to be by Robert Frost (him and his roads!) but what a surprise to find it was Kipling. Not his usual style at all . . .

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