Spanning the River of My Childhood

SPANNING THE RIVER OF MY CHILDHOOD

I long to walk the way again
where in childhood days I walked
I remember how often I went
along the side of the river past the weir
over Low Green Fields by the River Went
through lovely Brocodale to the sewage works
but forgetting that turned off
along the bridal path to Thorpe,
to Badsworth and its church
and its row of tall poplar trees
lining the Royd Moor Road -
the landmark which seemed so full of majesty
when viewed from my bedroom window as a child
But now I pass them in haste
South to the bypass then turning North

Beyond Badsworth is Upton Beacon
relic of a now bygone age
when fires warned of Vikings in the Humber -
part of a fiery chain of beacons bright,
but modern telegraph wires are more efficient
and so they ought to be, encroaching
upon the landscape as they do, but they serve a
good purpose

More often though I left Upton alone
and followed the road through Thorpe
past the Kennels and down the steep descent
to perhaps the most prettiest village
in the whole of South Yorks.
now quiet and free
No lorries churn through Wentbridge now
It is good
for its beauty can be enjoyed
standing in safety on the bridge
watching the Went flow swiftly on its way to the
Don
not so clear and sparkling as it once was
but serene and quiet
unpretentiously offering its unmitigated beauty

I never did get as far as Smeaton
My eastern limit was the Great North Road
(Great is not my adjective)
now spanning the Went on a slender
tall, and even beautifully flowing, viaduct -
a symbol of modern progress
the Age of Road Transport, the Civil Engineer, the
Bridge-builder
It is a symbol to me too
but a sad one
It is the symbol of an exit
a flight Northwards
away from my childhood
to where I must go
to 'fulfill myself'

I have left home and gone away
Returning for holidays is not the same
for always I must
leave again
and then in a lorry or a car or whatever lift I
hitch
I must pass over
that viaduct
spanning the river of my childhood

Ironically
the best view of the river Went
the best that is known to me
is from the top of that viaduct -
the Went Valley Viaduct
five miles from the motorway
and five from Ferrybridge
But who stops ?
How many know that view ?
One in a thousand
of the drivers who pass it in haste ?

I know of it
I shall never forget
It is the river of my childhood
I know of it
I shall never forget
That is all that matters

© GERALD ENGLAND

Composed: Glasgow, 11th January 1967

Publications

1967 Pontefract & Castleford Express (UK)
1981 DADDYCATION (Ashton under Lyne, New Hope International)