For Dick Mol
In New York there is an old landmark
Among the woods of Central Park;
And touching that ancient Rock of Old
One may sense the presence of its cold
And scratching their names, some lovers may
Among the woods of Central Park;
And touching that ancient Rock of Old
One may sense the presence of its cold
And scratching their names, some lovers may
To aid in the impression of decay
As the glaciers that once carved its gneiss
Left only a memory of melted ice
So too, the bison that once ambled by
Before the proud scrapers touched the sky
Through the brook, and across some field
Beside the lake’s half-frozen shield
And if Time should once more turn the clock
Or our civilisation diminish beside this rock
We too, shall carve a monument of polished stone
As a reminder of a world once like our own
- Matthew Edward Scarborough
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