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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365962" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Music of the Reeds</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It had been the worst of years, I seemed<br>To always be in strife, <br>First my business in receivership<br>And then my darling wife, <br>She decided that our poverty, <br>Once Banks had seized our home, <br>Was the perfect opportunity<br>For her to leave, and roam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So she roamed with a protector, <br>The accountant I'd released, <br>When I found that through his perfidy<br>I'd have to call the police, <br>He was always just one step ahead, <br>My wife knew me too well, <br>So they took the Channel Ferry, left<br>This fool, to rot in hell! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was heading for a breakdown, <br>All this fretting, and the grief, <br>I was hell-bent on disaster, <br>Vowed to catch this blatant thief, <br>And my wife, I would have killed her<br>For disloyalty, I swear, <br>So I followed them through Europe, <br>Catching glimpses, everywhere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But they managed to elude me<br>And I ended up in Greece, <br>I had gone through all the money<br>I had salvaged for the chase, <br>With what little I had left, I found<br>A villa I could rent, <br>By a woodland, in the marshes<br>I could brood on what I'd spent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was broken down and basic, <br>Had been empty there for years, <br>And the roof was badly leaking, <br>Rain could mingle with my tears, <br>I felt sorry for myself, and it<br>Was lonely, stuck out there, <br>Where the isolated shepherd came<br>To see, to stand and stare.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But they soon had lost their interest<br>In the stranger in their midst, <br>I was left to brood in silence<br>Walk the woodland in the mist, <br>And I skirted round the marshes<br>Where there lay a shallow lake, <br>It was fresh, and it was verdant<br>And unspoiled by man's estate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the weather was idyllic<br>I would sit and think of Beth, <br>Of the time there on the hillside<br>Where the world had held its breath, <br>But the years of wine and flowers<br>They had slowly been submerged, <br>And with age, the passion sours<br>As we lose that primal urge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would lie awake at midnight<br>Hear the music of the reeds, <br>With the wind so gently playing<br>Through the marshes and the trees, <br>And one night I left the villa<br>When I heard a certain note, <br>And I saw a sudden movement, <br>That I thought must be a goat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But my eyes had slowly focussed, <br>It seemed old and tired, and turned<br>And it stared at me quite sadly<br>It had horns, a beard that curled, <br>And it stood up on the hindquarters<br>A goat is noted for, <br>And it clutched the pipes of Pan<br>To breathe soft music, from its core.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It stood there for but a moment<br>Then it walked into the wood, <br>With its shoulders bowed and beaten, <br>And it staggered as it moved, <br>But the music was so wistful<br>Of a love, long lost before, <br>That my eyes began to glisten<br>As the lake lapped at the shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In a month I'd met with Gaya<br>Who I'd seen, back through the trees, <br>Dancing gently in the moonlight<br>Casting petals in the breeze, <br>And she came back to the villa<br>Where she saw to all my needs, <br>And we lie in love, and listen<br>To the Music of the Reeds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">14 September 2012</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Lewis+Paget">David Lewis Paget</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365962" data-title="The Music of the Reeds de David Lewis Paget" data-description="It had been the worst of years, I seemed
To always be in strife, 
First my business in receivership
And then my darling wife, 
She decided that our poverty, 
Once Banks had seized our home, 
Was the perfect opportunity
For her to leave, and roam.
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