“Boyhood will grow to youth,
Manhood come soon.
Life’s morning mist will melt
Into clear noon.”
How wrong, how wrong
Was the old school song
Though at the time
It seemed to rhyme
And reason well.
From time to time through the whole school year,
We sang it through both loud and long.
But was it right?
As I grew older
Noon was far from clear to me,
And later in the day it seems
That cloud and mist are all around.
The way to go is far from sure
We hardly know and cannot see
Where we should be making for,
And where we should be going from here.
But what was then our morning,
That seemed to us so crystal clear.
‘Life’s morning mists…’ it says and yet
Our boyhood days had goals all set.
The next exam and the next match to play,
For us life then was clear as day.
It’s later that the mists descend,
When you wonder more about your route.
Were they right, the bearings that I took?
By now I should see land I know,
Or did I miss the turning back along?
Should I have gone another way?
It’s autumn now.
The mists have come on time
As they come on time through all the years.
The fields and grass are wet with night
When the light of day at last appears.
The swallows fly in masses in the sky
And form long lines along the wires
Queuing for a trip to Africa.
Nature knows where she is going
And year on year she gets it right.
In the evening we still find
It hard to see the way ahead
And to decide where we should really be.
We find the years do not give peace
Or clarity of mind.
And yet the swallows always know
When to leave and where to go.