Poem

Poem

Reminisces the moment when his frightened heart was awakened by love, comparing that to the first breath of Heaven.

1944-02-08

One page typewritten document

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SYeomanHT104405v10003

[underlined]POEM[/underlined]
Lightfoot, I tread the scented lane
Of memory, when I’m alone and tired
And small with the great night, and full of pain
I feel my frightened heart, first fired
With love of you, and clearly yet,
The first touch of your lips, on that glad night
My heart knew its awakening.

Dear, how could I forget
First breath of Heaven?
Through darkness – first great light?
Or how, this heart, by deepest love inspired,
Turn now, to shallow sleep again?

H.Y. 8 Feb 44
Tuddenham.