WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE : THE THIRD SPACE
WAITING TO BE CALLED *
BY Dianne Ascroft
I longed to be there before the bluebells ' calm hue faded . The river burbling its delight as swallows returned to eaves and byres . But , I vainly waited to be called home .
I longed to be there before the cuckoo ' s call hushed . The fox pursuing the moon through blooming fields and the sun shying from its bed . But , still I waited to be called home .
Now I long to be there as Meadowsweet ' s scent sings in the air . The tall grasses wait for the scythe and hares peer above the rustling cloak . Surely , I must soon be called home .
* This poem was inspired by a letter that Irish war poet Francis Ledwidge wrote to his mother in Slane , County Meath , Ireland in July 1917 . As a youth he had wanted to see the world , but almost three years after he left Ireland to enlist in the British army during the First World War , he now longed to return home . He was hoping for leave from his unit , which was long overdue after seven months on active service . In the letter , he said that he may be home again soon and added , “ In fact , I am only waiting to be called home .” His hope was never realised as he died on the 31 st of the same month during the third Battle of Ypres .
13 | NOVEMBER 2017