Waking on the half-rays of
A pilgrim-written dawn
Wondering at signs of fire
And words upon the wall
Crossing Southern latitudes
In burning heat of day
Wondering at land rovers
And mindless things like pay
Call rebellion onto all
The other things you hate
Watch the ripples
Flowing through a gate
Half-remembered from your youth
Watch the platitudes a-falling
Under silken bays
Dream of flawed reality
And hay
And all those summer lovelies
As the neighbours fertilise
The land you have forgot
Drinking of the golden ale
And dreaming what is not
Upon your head the silvered crown
Of fallen lifetimes near
Look ye here
To the end of the story. |