<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509902" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ninetieth Birthday</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You go up the long track<br>That will take a car, but is best walked<br>On slow foot, noting the lichen<br>That writes history on the page<br>Of the grey rock. Trees are about you<br>At first, but yield to the green bracken,<br>The nightjars house: you can hear it spin<br>On warm evenings; it is still now<br>In the noonday heat, only the lesser<br>Voices sound, blue-fly and gnat<br>And the stream's whisper. As the road climbs,<br>You will pause for breath and the far sea's<br>Signal will flash, till you turn again<br>To the steep track, buttressed with cloud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there at the top that old woman,<br>Born almost a century back<br>In that stone farm, awaits your coming;<br>Waits for the news of the lost village<br>She thinks she knows, a place that exists<br>In her memory only.<br> You bring her greeting<br>And praise for having lasted so long<br>With time's knife shaving the bone.<br>Yet no bridge joins her own<br>World with yours, all you can do<br>Is lean kindly across the abyss<br>To hear words that were once wise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Submitted by Andrew Mayers</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ronald+Stuart+Thomas">Ronald Stuart Thomas</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=509902" data-title="Ninetieth Birthday de Ronald Stuart Thomas" data-description="You go up the long track That will take a car, but is best walked On slow foot, noting the lichen That writes history on the page Of the grey rock. Trees are about you At first, but yield to the green bracken, The nightjars house: you can hear it ..."></div> </div> </div>

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