A SONG FOR KATHLEEN RAINE

on her ninetieth birthday

by William Radice

to the tune of ‘The Water is Wide’

The path’s been long and the path’s been hard

And many’s the time it was out of sight:

The ground too rough and the night too dark

For me to know my steps were right.

I’ve pored over books, I’ve studied the art

Of minds whose strength is more than mine;

I’ve heard the great song of Nature herself,

And seen the path’s broad shining line -

Its tireless course over time and space,

The way it joins each planet and star,

The way it unfolds, through earth, sea and sky,

The book of life, wide, deep and far.

It lies in all that is good and true,

I’ve known it in love, I’ve sensed it in joy,

I’ve learnt that its vast creative power

Is that which seers and poets employ.

Yet when I’ve tried to follow their steps,

I’m never sure the path’s still there:

So rough that my feet have ached and bled,

So dark and vague, I’ve felt despair.

For the world is cruel and the fault is ours,

We’ve squandered its gifts, and spoilt its song,

Divorced our brains from our hearts to devise

Insane machines, life-forms that are wrong.

We fail our loves and betray our friends,

Give birth to life, then let it down:

So why have I stayed in search of the path?

Why still do I not slip or drown?

What is this power that keeps me here?

What is this force, still driving my work?

What is this voice, that says to my soul:

You must not stop, you must not shirk.

You must search on for what seems lost,

Inspire many more to seek it too;

You’ll sometimes feel the path is gone,

But if you search, it won’t fail you.

That’s what I hear, but is it true?

I think at this improbable age

I know the path must be like this:

Include our failures, pain and rage.

It’s not confined to faith and love,

Its fiery course through time and space

Is there when we search and not when we find,

Is ours to make, not dumbly trace:

Is ours to make from the road of flame

That pain and grief oblige us to tread,

Is ours to plant with blazing flowers

Grown from the blood our hearts have shed.

The path’s been long and the path’s been hard,

But now at this age I think I see

That though its course at times was dark

That was the way it had to be.

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