In The Small Hours: On Neddy's Hill
John Brian Leaver's poem is a reflection on mortality.
Come, bide with me awhile,
in dappled shade by the stile,
as we did when we were young
and fill the eye with our favoured view
of Pen-y-ghent, anew
Remember how we would change the world
when the war was won,
vowing to follow the sun on becoming grown-up men,
when I was nine and you were all of ten
'Tis three score year since you bade
farewell at the good ship's
parting knell, bound for
The Land of the Long White Cloud
that rings a doleful bell
A voice told of your passing
'twas on a restless night,
I, too, must go, my hearth awaits
the day has lost its light
I'm sure we'll meet again
at the foot of Sion's Stair,
but tell me, before we part,
is Cerberus sleeping there?
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