No room for mourning: he's gone out
Into the noisy glen, or stands between the stones
Of the broken ridge, or you'll hear his shout
Rolling among the screes, he being a boy again.
He'll never fail nor die
And if they laid his bones
In the granite vaults or iron sarcophagi
Of fame, he'd rise at the first summer rain
And stride across the hills to seek
His rest among the bony lands and clouds.
He was a stormy day, a wet peak
Spearing the sky; and look, about its base
Words flower like crocuses in the gaunt woods,
Blank though the dalehead and the hanging face.
Sidney Keyes (killed in action in Tunisia, aged 20).wrote this magnificent elegy in memory of William Wordsworth:
Brian and some of the athletes he coached in Christchurch.
I got an email from Neville Cleveland today. Brian was our athletics coach from when we were 14 to about 20, and we all have remained great friends since. As I have been overseas a long time Neville was closer to Brian. He wrote to me today, "there is no further news on Brian , and it is difficult coming to terms with the fact he has moved on unexpectedly." He wrote of speaking to Prue, Brian's wife and how traumatic and difficult it is for her and their two boys, and he added "It is very sad , and my mother has also taken it badly. She will be 90 this year. "
Yes the giant Totara has fallen. Farewell Brian.