"Sunday Memories" was meant to be a collaboration between Samuel Tyldsley and Dolores Bourque.¹⁰  The theme is a simple one: the story of a doomed romance.  The writers were to reflect upon this romance from the viewpoint of each participant, making a complete work from two individual pieces, one by each author.
     "Sunday Memories" was never completed.  What follows is the unfinished Tyldsley contribution.  All the notes ¹¹ found pertaining to this manuscript clearly indicate another poem in the first section immediately preceding "Peace fills my mind..." and following "Is it a dream..."  No copies of this poem have been found.
     The authorship of the drawing is uncertain, though it is presumed to be by Tyldsley.
 
 

                                                                            Dolores Bourque
                                                                            Samuel Tyldsley

  Walk along these paths
     of green;
   Gaze beyond the breeze
     with me;
   Darling, let our souls
     entwine
   and weave
   a Sunday Memory.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

                                                              As I wander
                                                                   through this life,
                                                               no paths diverge
                                                                   before me -
                                                                   yet, I see another.

                                                                In vain I seek
                                                                    the forest dense,
                                                                 to find life but a seedling,
                                                                    awaiting the spring.
 
 

  Scholar keep
   thy learned way;
  the wisdom of
   thy knowledge
  eludes me now,

  though once
   I wandered
  through sheltered worlds
   of reason
  I called mine own.
 

  Elusive Why
   thou stood aloft,
  and gayly smiled
   as I sought
  which was not lost.

  In futile quest,
   I lost my days
  in dusty texts
   and distant lands -
  but to find
   the answer
  here
  in a woman's eyes.

                         Her eyes;
                             hazel clouds
                         through which her love,
                             the brightest sun,
                         shines forth to meet me
                              and warm
                          my forsaken soul
                              with truth I had denied -
                          beauty, I'd dare not dream.

                          Her skin is like
                              a milky sea;
                          sweeping 'cross
                              the sands of time
                           to free my stranded heart.

                           Her form,
                               caressing my eyes
                            gently as a mother's sigh,
                               calls me
                             like a newborn babe.
 
 
 
 

                                                              Is it a dream
                                                                   thou art here beside me?

                                                              It is true
                                                                   thou bade me "dear"?

                                                              Can a star
                                                                   shine though this darkest night?

                                                              Can this heaven
                                                                   be for real?

                                                               Tell me.
                                                               Could'st thou love me?

                                                  Would'st though take my hand
                                                       if it but reaches from the grave
                                                              of this,
                                                       mine empty yesterday?
 

                                                                 Peace fills my mind
                                                                 like sun lights the sky.

                                                                 No brighter my joy,
                                                                 nor higher my self
                                                                 than in our perfect love
                                                                 could be;
 
 
 

  for we are two -
they say we are mad,
  yet are we two -
   the One is mad -
   the world,
    it is one -
  but we are two...
  passing by this world of grief,
  passing through our unsung yesterdays,
  far beyond our hopeful dreams,
  we live
   beyond the reign,
  within our perfect love.
 
 
 

                                      Ask I not that thou should'st love me,
                                           for what is love for me to take,
                                                  or thee to portion?

                                      Could it be thine own creation?
                                       Blessed be thou to make it so.
                                       Doth not love upon the breezes fly,
                                           for some to grasp,
                                                 and some deny?

                                       It dwelleth not in hearts of stone,
                                       nor in breeding's mannered bosom.

                                       True love ne'er will be affection's tithe -
                                        but Grace's holy light.
 
 

                                                   Perfection art fantasy,
                                                        as such crushed by doubt.

                                                            Our joyous days together
                                                             hath drifted so far away,
                                                             like the last rays of sunset
                                                                        that fade into night;
                                                                            so slowly,

                                                                      so far away...

                                                    So far out of sight,
                                                                       but still I feel warmth;
                                                                       still I feel
                                                                                           the pain
                                                                                       of our love.

                                                     Love for one so lost,
                                                              so bitter, so changed;
                                                              and yet I call thee mine -

                                                                       "Whatsoever thou art,
                                                                                             thou art my love."

                                                     and no lover's arms can change that.

 How soon a stranger,
   who once was friend.
 How soon her portrait fades...
   a smile, a tear,
   a lie untold;
   no less deceit.

 Feign no mirth,
   mock me not;
 We've played a game
   and gained our loss...

  that darkest day
    thou touched me with thine eyes...

                  those eyes condemned
  my tongue to silence.
    My heart betrayed my soul
  when I met thy gaze.

                                      How early late
                                      this child be,
                                      and what of his bequest?
                                      a smile, a tear,
                                      a task not done;
                                      a dawn unseen.
 

                                                                            Beloved,
                                                                                 is it thy voice I hear,
                                                                                       or but a shadow
                                                                                 weeping in mine ear?

                                                                             Tell me true,
                                                                                  was it thy hand I kissed,
                                                                                       or but a dream
                                                                                       of one I miss?

                                                                              Hast thou forgot
                                                                                        the dream we shared?

                                                                              Dost thou sleep well
                                                                                        while count I stars
                                                                                        which shone in thine eyes?

                                                                              As stand I,
                                                                                              alone
                                                                                         through one more night,

                                                                               I gaze, forever hopeful,
                                                                                         at the sinking sky,,,

                                                                               yet the dawn comes no more.

  Where wert thou
       upon this darkest night?
  Hast thou burnt the body
       while I mourned the soul?
  Hast thou naught to say
       but of the rain?

  We used to speak
        of more than weather.
  We used to care
        of more than clouds.
  And we loved -
  more
  than any sunny day.

  But now our sun
         hath grown so cold
  no words can pass our lips -
  no words
         of worth...

  the weather?

          It's always raining.
 
 
 
 
 

                                                                      Always knowing,
                                                                          so it seems,
                                                                       before I find the courage
                                                                           to face
                                                                       what I have seen.

                                                                       And wilt thou pretend,
                                                                           as I have done,
                                                                                  that we can hold
                                                                           a dream that hath died

                                                                                  and left
                                                                                  but ash...
 
 

                                                      Not of past and shattered joys,
                                                          but in memories that might have been,

                                                       I love thee still.
 
 
 

       Betwixt the light and mine eyes
there lieth memories,
through which my tears must pass.

        In this cloth I weave today
there runneth threads
        of yesterday;

         forever past

    yet never done.
 
 

                                                 Across the shimmering
                                                                   candlelight
                                                  I dreamt I saw thy face.
                                                  From out the stolid void
                                                  I gazed into thine eyes...

                                                  But those gentle loving pools
                                                          were just the glaze
                                                                of all my tears
                                                                         swelling as I cried...
 

                                                                         swift tears
                                                                 that wash my memories
                                                            and blur the face
                                                   I'll see no more.

                          How long, my love,
                          since last I gazed into thine eyes,
                          shining forth their wondrous grace,
                          yet not the grief behind?
 
 

  I awoke
   with tears in mine eyes,
   thee in my heart,
  contemplating smiles,
   so quickly become frowns.

  I see thy face,
  still in my mind,
  thy voice yet rings
  within mine ears.

  Thy love freed my soul,
   yet imprisoned my heart.

  O', how brief is forever.
 
 
 
 
 
 

                                                                      How many dreams
                                                                               will pass away
                                                                       before the dawn awakens?

                                                                       How many times
                                                                               must I call thy name
                                                                        before I know
                                                                               thou art gone?
 
 

                                                  Sitting alone,
                                                  where once we sat together...
                                                  there is a vacant space,
                                                  where once thou sat -
                                                      an empty quiet,
                                                      where once thou spoke -
                                                  and a gap in my heart,
                                                  where I was once whole.
 
 

Now and then I hear thy voice
                                             from out the darkness call,
                     and see thy face
                                              in misty pools of rain.
Now and then I see thy smile
                                              and know it's not for me -
                         and oft I wish
                                              I'd never known thee...

                                  perhaps I never have.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

                            And when this day
                            hath long since passed,
                            and we no longer
                            dream as one,
                            a bit of warmth
                            will yet remain
                            within our
                            Sunday Memories.
 
 

        The song playing is "You and Me",  originally by Alice Cooper, from the album, Lace and Whiskey.  This MIDI was found at  Bryan Dongray's HomePage