There's a comment on YouTube which says:
“One Day Clifford T Ward will be mentioned in the same breath as Rupert Brook and Dylan Thomas for he is as quintisentially (sic) British and poetic as they were. Like them too his life is tinged with the great sadness of unfullfilled promise and was ended far too soon.”
When anyone dies “too young” (Clifford T Ward was 57 when he died in 2001) it is tragic. When a person of great talent, be it music, poetry, sport, science or whatever dies, it seems most poignant and we think of unfulfilled dreams and waste. Ward was a skilful poet and musician, “Home Thoughts” being a particular favourite of mine. “I could be a millionaire, if I had the money” is a wonderful line. He is also relatively unknown for someone of his calibre (I think)
Perhaps he is not as unfulfilled as we might think and perhaps no one can talk about anyone’s unfulfilment except their own. It was said that he would have had more commercial success if he hadn’t disliked touring, interviews and photo shoots so much. Maybe he just didn’t class that as fulfillment.
Even at my age I am not sure what fulfils me. I know what pleases me and what concerns me, but to say that knowing my family are happy makes me happy sounds a bit pretentious.
Maybe when I get to my three score years and ten I will have the answer. Not too long to go.