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Of Darkened Woods and Dinner Discourse
Dear Edgar,
I do entreat that you should call upon
My humble home among the hemlocks.
Our conversations would be drawn
To common things and passing fancies,
As we watch the evening shadows creep across my lawn.
As I write, I think it fair
To ask if you would bring Virginia here.
My Elinor asks to see of her
Since last we met and watched you disappear
Along that winding, wooded road;
Until the sound of measured steps, we could no longer hear.
Hasten here to New Hampshire
Where Darkened woods break unto
Peaceful pastures lined with stony lees,
And the odd raven only bids a passerby "Adieu".
Though I must confess as of late,
That the coming cold might allow that solemn snow to accrue.
If the driving snow does halt your passage,
Take heart in the warm welcome that awaits.
I'll crack a cask of New England ale
Since last you stood outside my gates,
You told me of your affinity for liquor
And I thought "Ale better suits good mates".
As the ale loosens tongues and knotted neckties
And should you despair, as men of mead often do,
Let me remind you that you have promises to keep
And miles upon miles to go before sleep takes you.
For there is no rest for the wayward souls
Who seek asylum in mugs of New England brew.
If this letter should reach you in good health,
I hope that you consider my hospitality.
Elinor and I would be delighted to have you
And as we dine eschew formality.
For good friends come earlier than expected
Simply for the presence of good company.
I do entreat that you should call upon
My humble home among the hemlocks.
Our conversations would be drawn
To common things and passing fancies,
As we watch the evening shadows creep across my lawn.
As I write, I think it fair
To ask if you would bring Virginia here.
My Elinor asks to see of her
Since last we met and watched you disappear
Along that winding, wooded road;
Until the sound of measured steps, we could no longer hear.
Hasten here to New Hampshire
Where Darkened woods break unto
Peaceful pastures lined with stony lees,
And the odd raven only bids a passerby "Adieu".
Though I must confess as of late,
That the coming cold might allow that solemn snow to accrue.
If the driving snow does halt your passage,
Take heart in the warm welcome that awaits.
I'll crack a cask of New England ale
Since last you stood outside my gates,
You told me of your affinity for liquor
And I thought "Ale better suits good mates".
As the ale loosens tongues and knotted neckties
And should you despair, as men of mead often do,
Let me remind you that you have promises to keep
And miles upon miles to go before sleep takes you.
For there is no rest for the wayward souls
Who seek asylum in mugs of New England brew.
If this letter should reach you in good health,
I hope that you consider my hospitality.
Elinor and I would be delighted to have you
And as we dine eschew formality.
For good friends come earlier than expected
Simply for the presence of good company.
Published 18th Apr 2013
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