Sunday, February 18, 2007

Wednesday 2nd August 1933

Nothing unusual happened – just a pleasant, idle day. Good food, plenty of it with milk. I have a pint or more each day. Evening. Short cruise around the lake, alone. A light night, moon risen. Only two Scouts in camp tonight. Smiling Through. At last I know it all! First, a memory and a haunting phrase. Then the story. Next the tune. Finally the words! It is complete now. I will write all of it.

“There’s a little brown road winding over the hill;
There’s a little white cot by the sea;
There’s a little green gate
At whose trellis I wait, While two eyes of blue, Come smiling through - at me.

There’s a grey lock or two in the brown of your hair;
There’s some silver in mine, I see;
But in all the long years
When the clouds brought their tears,
Those two eyes of blue
Kept smiling through – at me.

And if ever I’m left in this world all alone,
I shall wait for my call patiently
For if heaven be kind I shall wake there to find,
Those two eyes of blue
Still smiling through - at me.”

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