The Lake Revisited (Christmas Break 1989)

[And here is the 'rewrite' of my first poem, The Lake. Considerably longer, considerably more detail, but incorporating a few things from the first poem just to preserve the relationship.]

Love never comes when it is expected,
Nor ever leaves without great pain.

Salvation from the city's gloom,
And the weight of my studies
Was the reason for my leaving
The banks of the Cherwell
And coming to the country.

My discovery of that lovely lake,
With gentle waters and oaks so mighty a boundary,
Served as good omen for my stay.
Upon that gnarled jut of rock,
At the apex of the lake,
Much time would I spend
Watching the geese play amongst the lilies,
Or reading a book as the breeze
Toyed with my hair and pages.

What surprise awaited me that late Spring day
When upon my stony perch
Rested a lovely woman, dressed in her riding clothes,
Looking out over the glistening lake.
At the trespass of my grand aerie
With affront I did approach.
But a fool man be if from his side
He shuns the noble company
Of so intelligent a beauty.

Talked we did till the twilight came
And Custom called our separation.
But at this lake again each noon we should meet
Was the vow carried by the reeds.
Memories of sun-radiant waters,
And a gliding white boat
Gently oared along green-bordered arms,
Ripple peacefully through my mind.
All we sought we found through that supportive lake.

There is a fine line between friendship and love,
One which is oft times unclear.
But the signs were there and our perceptions true,
And reality cannot be ignored.
Beside that lake we blossomed with Spring.
With the white lilies did our love flower
Beautiful and pure, in sunny happiness basking.
Swimming or sleeping, thinking or dreaming,
We did all beside or upon that lake.

That lake was the friend of friends,
The clergy whom had wedded our souls.

There she was in the middle of the lake
Within that little white boat
Which I had had carried from the river south.
Her smile at my rowing was somehow
Brighter than the waters,
And perhaps more chilling in finality.
That from her released expectation she stood
Was the beginning of the ache.

Such a simple thing had we done so often,
Standing and playing in that unsturdy boat,
Then swimming ashore as we raced the other.
But this moment I could feel was different.
In a maelstrom of movement
Her flailing form went under;
Another time I might have laughed.
Instead I only screamed.

What treachery this from a long-time friend?
That those loving waters could so coldly swallow!
That such fate was dispensible
Was through our love incomprehensible.
Can nature be a jealous creature?

Forgive me if displaced I have seemed,
But Tragedy enjoys to sober.

No passion shall I again dain to feel
When the pain makes one's life trivial.