Portfolio Naples April 2018 - Page 93

ey shut the road through the woods Seventy years ago. Weather and rain have undone it again, And now you would never know ere was once a road through the woods Before they planted the trees. It is underneath the coppice and heath, And the thin anemones. Only the keeper sees at, where the ring-dove broods, And the badgers roll at ease, ere was once a road through the woods. Yet, if you enter the woods Of a summer evening late, When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools Where the otter whistles his mate, (ey fear not men in the woods, Because they see so few.) You will hear the beat of a horse's feet, And the swish of a skirt in the dew, Steadily cantering through e misty solitudes, As though they perfectly knew e old lost road through the woods. But there is no road through the woods. Rudyard Kipling Photo: Kevin Adams “Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, with Nature herself.” Henry David oreau, Walden PORTFOLIO MAGAZINE 91