Will You Always Bring Me Oranges?

When I am sick,
Will you always bring me oranges?
Will you always stir my tea,
And bring me newspapers to read?

Will you stand in my doorway,
A beauty in the half light,
And declare to one so ill
That you love him still?

And when my fever finally subsides,
And the shivering has stopped,
Will you lay with me again,
Pressed up tight against my skin?

I hope to see you when we're old,
And our skin has sagged and wrinkled,
And all that we dare drink is tea
And newspaper print's too hard to read.

When I am sick,
Will you always bring me oranges?
I promise I'll do the same.

The Country Life

At what price the country life?
Time to dream of lost ambition
Realised. Even so, the sky
That hangs uncreased by wind

Would fit so well on me;
Or so it seems.
These feet, that long
To wear the earth,

So too are scared to rest.
The minds of great men
Reach outwards and turn back
Again. And what of mine?