The Family Reunion

Full twenty years I stayed away.
My father grew thin; my mother grey;
And my young sister went astray.

Now, I see them in my dreams;
A mystic light about them gleams.
They have become my Muse’s themes.

My mother and I in an orchard strolled.
Her looks were neither young nor old,
And she was wearing a gown of gold.

Apple blossom was overhead;
Sunlight on the green grass was shed.
At peace we walked, and no word was said.

In front of his cottage my father stood;
Before him a stream, behind him a wood.
He has lived his life as a true man should.

Black his hair as the fur of mole;
He beckoned me in to share a bowl,
And I saw that his withered arm was whole.

My sister had lived with a gypsy man
In a gaily painted caravan
Drawn by a horse. So the story ran.

Now she was dancing the ‘Dying Swan’.
Snow white the plumage that she had on,
And joy from her every movement shone.