Once upon an autumn sunset, while I wondered glum and upset,

Through the rows of graves and sepulchers ancient of years before,

While I trespassed, slowly walking, suddenly there was a squawking,

Causing me to begin balking, balking at the forest floor.

"Tis some bird within," I muttered, "squawking on the forest floor - on the path she took before."

How distinctly I remember it was during last September,

And how the entrance condemned her to a wayward route inshore.

Morosely, I wished her return;- though the pain dulled I ceased to yearn, my weak heart filled with strong concern - concern for dear Eleanor -

For my dear daughter with cheek of tan lovingly named Eleanor-

Wandering for evermore.

And the gentle, soft but eager rustling of the branches meagre

Attract me - pack me with curiosity wanting to explore;

So that now, to still the pounding of my heart, I stood sounding,

"Tis not a child's cry but a poor bird squawking on the forest floor-

It is just some poor fallen bird squawking on the forest floor;-

On the path she took before."

At this time my mind grew stronger; not delaying any longer,

"But," said I, "should I go once again through the wood to explore?

And so I'll go, quickly walking, listening for sounds of squawking,

Presently no longer balking, balking at the forest floor,

I will search yet again for her" - here my daughter I'll look for;-

On the path she took before.

In the wood where she'd been taken, a while I wandered scared and shaken,

Hoping, thinking thoughts I'd conceived before of my Eleanor;

And the crying was distant, although it remained persistant,

And I replied to the weeping with the soft word, "Eleanor?"

This I murmured and an echo returned the name, "Eleanor!" -

Back along the path before.

On into the forest afraid, to the God whom I loved I prayed,

Soon the noise I heard grew louder as the path took me inshore.

"I'm sure," said I, "I'm sure that sound I hear is a child's soft crying:

Let me find, then, it's source pray, and this conundrum explore-

Let my breath retard a moment and this conundrum explore;-

Tis a bird and nothing more!"

Along this path I trip and stumble, when, suddenly I take a tumble,

On the dirt path I lay sobbing till I could not sob no more;

Unmoving and tender was I, lying, listening to the wind's deep sigh;

My plan to die there goes awry, I rose from the forest's floor-

Intent drove me onward on the path along the forest floor-

Down the path she took before.

Then the harmony song grew reserved as the lengthy pathyway curved,

Forth I go through trees archaic the path I came to abhor.

"No stars can I see out insight, oh," I said, " caliginous night!

Unknown aged and distant sight littered with footprints of Yore-

Take me to my wandering girl please she who escapes me heretofore!"

Escaped me on the path before.

Through the gloomy glade suggestion of a trail poises the question,

Though its answer remains uncertain - had she walked this way before?

For I have always wondered, though the evidence plundered

By the surplus rains asundered confirmation and decor-

Indication covered by the wood's constant change in decor,

Covering the forest floor.

So the trail I followed blindly and the trees they treat me kindly

protecting me from wind and rain we establish a rapport.

And the branches are defensive but I push through feeling pensive,

Push through feeling apprhensive, noticing the sudden hoar-

On the branches the cold settles, bracken hid by rime and hoar.

On the trail I did explore.

Then my rich imagination nearly caused my heart's cessation,

As I thought I caught a glimpse of my dear daughter Eleanor.

On your features I saw a smile proving my reason to be guile,

For roaming through the forest's aisle, your poor heart one burden bore-

A heart so heavy with the pessimistic burdern you bore

You were lost forever more.

But the phantom still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I followed the trail to where she stood beneath the large tor;

My daughter missing for a year, predicted dead but she stood here

Like my thought's hoped, she did appear to me and I could not ignore -

The way her eyes beckoned me toward her, my heart could not ignore

The daughter I had longed for.

When she egressed I did pursue, my panick raised as she withdrew

Into the chaparral till I could not see her anymore;

I did not falter or delay as I ran along the same way,

I let the wraith lead me astray underneath the temper of Thor,

Darkness complete but the god in the storm working hard is Thor,

Thunder deafens with a roar.

Then methought I heard a soft squawk or was it her trying to talk

Inbetween the harsh cannonade of the god's ongoing war.

"Wait," I cried, "I fear I've lost you - for your purpose I can't construe

Has thy God lent thee to help find her, and be this alms or chore?

Is this some daily deed of angels or indeed a loathesome chore?

For the latter I'll ignore."

"Or be ye spectre sent to haunt or a demon assigned to taunt

a grieving mother missing amongst this labyrinth of yore?

Well your gibes fail - I'm too depressed, and I shall die by her request

For if she asks I'll not protest as tell me truly I implore -

Would not a mother guard her child? Tell me truly, I implore!

I will fail her nevermore."

And the footpath comes to an end so through the trees I start to wend,

Before me a dell as dark as the dead's Plutonian shore.

And at it's heart a still lagoon, it's surface cloaked with algae strewn

It lies beneath a gibbous moon whose ghostly rays curb its shore

The moonlight consumes the darkness but not my fears on its shore,

As I think of Eleanor.

The silent bowl of death doth watch as paddles whirled within my touch

A spoon I need to stir the dark to rile the monster from lore,

Old willow rooted in it's place looks longingly at the pond's grace

aches to hold it in it's embrace but I ache to hold it more;

Ache to hug her and as I wish it I ache to hold her more,

There she lies beneath the shore.

To be submerged in her entire filled my mind with mournful desire

till the dark feeling grew and it I could no longer ignore;

the errant breeze that stirs the scene gives expression poignant and keen

as I escape beneath the green waters I longed to explore.

Under the surface my eyes close as my mind starts to explore

memories of Eleanor.