John Thatcher: ‘Memories of Her’Memories of HerOn her lips there rested sweetness, the honey-dew of morn,In her hair the touch of colour, I have seen upon the dawn,In her eyes there danced the brightness, wondered magic of the stars,In her voice I heard the ripple of a thousand soft guitars. In her hair there hung the softness, of early morning mist,In her smile there lurked the freshness, that once the sun had kissed,On her face had lighted beauty, nymph-like as an elf,On her tongue the words of phrase, I had wished upon myself. In her walk had swung defiance, emergence of a spirit,In her form there rested graces, my honour to be near it,On her feet had lighted swiftness, jealous grasses kissed,In her heart, the deepest love, which pained me to have missed. John Thatcher