Vale  'Ben'
~~~~~

WHEN I was young, I dwelt in Vale
By a misty fen lit by a moon so pale.
And thus it was that I first met Ben,
Whose heart and hame were waiting then
For a chance at Earth in a lively form
And thus a dog name Ben was born.

I knew him well, whose feet would pad
Across the floor, on moonlight at a window spilt.
Gazing from the fen where He began,
Knowing all the souls, not yet known to man,

And His voice sounded in his room
When across the sill came the world's gloom.
He came singly from his own place,
And into the corners of our hearts (with grace)
For often He had much to say
In his own quiet, unspoken, doglike way.

Of things of moment to which, He wist,
Things taught to us, too long to list
That the stars were almost faded away
Before He at last went his way.

Back to the place from which He came--
Where the bird was before it flew,
Where the flower was before it grew,
Where Ben would lie at his Maker's feet
And thus it was I knew him well
For what he'd seen, he ne'er would tell.

You have only to ask me, and I can tell.
I looked at the floor at the Maker's feet
With nothing to say for my soulful self.
When Ben on my behalf began to speak !

He acknowledged a soul with unweaning pride,
but also of arms which held him when he died.
Of arms that brushed him, empty now.
Of hands that brushed his weary brow.
Of a heart that might be burnished bright
If fired by an Earthly light.

And so it was that I was given
Another earthly form, from the Hall of Souls reborn.
I asked for Gentle Ben's friendly face,
To live and die amongst his race.
But I hadn't yet the patience of that form
Something known to a gentle Ben forlorn.

Because of Ben's depth of heart (full of grace).
And patience with the human race.
I was born a human child
to walk this earth for a longer while.
To learn the things of which He spoke
Of things of moment to which, He wist,
Things taught to me, too long to list
That the stars were almost faded away
Before Ben again went on his way . . . .

~~~~~~~

Inspired by Frost, Robert
When Ricky raised his pen
And paraphrased, appended
And pruned it until when
It had a different meaning
It's appearance was remote
So then the Rhymin' Ricky felt
by the Muse, He had been "smote" ?

THIS little rhymin ditty
Is more My style & skill
And I gives to some a headache,
And others a little thrill !

Richard Stopps