I recently came across the following poem. It was written by my grandfather, and I found it on a tape he had recorded of himself reading his poems. He died in January 2000, and yet his voice on the tape sounds so familiar. I also think the poem isn’t too bad. He says on the tape that this was one of the first he wrote, and I wonder what he would think if he had known that his granddaughter would be listening to it in 2011. It’s called ‘You must forgive me’, and found it rather spoke to me.
You Must Forgive Me
by Albert Lymer.
You must forgive me, I cannot choose but stare
Your eyes hold mine though yours look otherwhere
Yet when they turn to mine to find me watching thee
For that sweet blush of think you must forgive me
You must forgive me, your name I love to hear
and when it sounds I turn, though you’re not near
and gaze at he whose voice has merely mentioned thee
and if I then rejoice, you must forgive me
You must forgive me, I cannot love you less
and all my care and overthoughtfulness
if to your eyes seem wrong, estreem as love for thee
when, for this poor love song, you may forgive me.
