Kensington Gardens - Viviane Verne

Dappling shadows on the summer grass,
Vernal rivalry among the trees;
Lovers smiling coyly as they pass,
Sparrow’s laughing in the summer breeze.

Children playing by the placid lake,
Coaxing ducks, with greedy eyes;
Sunlight gilding rippllets that break
Where they struggle for a prize.

Jealous dogs that ‘do delight’
In frantic grappling for a stick,
Racing back with ‘bark and bite’.
To yield a trophy quite historic.

Lonely ladies dreaming in bath=chairs,
Old men taking sun baths on their seats,
Nurses softly talking in prim pairs,
Telling of their soldier lovers’ feats.

Medall’d patrols keeping austere guard,
Over radiant rose and ever-greens,
Gold-flecked finery and velvet sward,
And the quiet garden of dead queens.

Fleecy cloud in limpid blue,
Smiling down with tender mein;
Life seems simple, honest, true,
In this simple open scene.

Who would think that vault benign
God’s last area free from vice,
Initiates the aerial mine,
With babes below as sacrifice.

Sitting here on summer morn,
With the birds and babes at play.
Who could dream that sky was torn
Yesternight – with hellish spray/

It is strange that Nature’s lurement
Waits – unclaimed – for our retrievement,
While men war in false endurement
Deeming this life’s great achievement.

Viviane Verne