no winter farm

so often broken scented with manure

dark earth yields little without freight of pain

not yellow tubers nor yet tasty grain

that does not speak of what we must endure

this simple purpose is the only cure

beneath the moon our inner voice says plain

for what ails most but there is no great gain

nor ever hope that wisdom will come pure

here light may sting and sun will leave a burn

noon is not dark nor will we ever pine

for the lost sweetness of the rising sap

no children dance with joy at sunreturn

nor old men feel the need for warming wine

yet each must have the sense of a sprung trap

red leaves

down south you forget the ripening leaves

and chilly mornings of bright october

no matter for redly a dying time grieves

 

sunlight on water fair smiling deceives

at dawn the frost shone hard on grass and clover

down south you forget the ripening leaves

 

yet clock there remains the swiftest of thieves

treating the same way both stayer and rover

no matter for redly a dying time grieves

 

telling each young one that what he believes

is false never true and patience is over

down south you forget the ripening leaves

 

slowly to slaughter we marched off the beeves

a suitable task for the youthful drrover

no matter how redly a dying time grieves

 

the adult must measure how much he achieves

in calm acquiescence knowingly sober

down south you forget the ripening leaves

no matter how redly a dying time grieves

villager

forbear to throw more weight upon the ass

since longer journey we must soon begin

the copper coin that the lone guide shall spin

no better guide through the hardest impasse

since at the end there may be but rough grass

and all our commons could turn out most thin

still none of that our better hope’s to win

leaving our enemies in the morass

the hardest victory is still the first

when no experience is on our side

but suffering so all we know is pain

so we must say this has to be the worst

in largest part just to protect our pride

but also to account for your huge gain

franking privilege

a single miss enough to count as grave

no one to note but you and you are sly

might grant yourself a pardon and know why

it is an easy thing to grant or save

no man or woman dares to be too brave

and nothing is less honest than the eye

or ear while happy mouth has just to lie

no one need argue they need but behave

the politic approach is what we take

in angry time when nothing matches might

and everyone needs bow before the claw

while honest people lie for hours awake

not knowing what disasters wait in night

but certain that silenced has been the law

refraction

have caught the missing moment of each day

taken it prisoner and won’t release

a single second of our hope’s increase

out of plain fear that golden light could stray

from warming hands that yet know how to play

the human game without harm or caprice

into cold air that would soon end all peace

sending the waiting watchers on their way

have known hard losses and much harder wins

on courses and on surfaces that yield

their gifts to those who have little to tell

though coldest nights save the long count of sins

serving as sustenance across the field

while each survivor wishes they could yell

failure

this is the moment when the banner falls

into the dust we call the battle lost

let our swords rust and rue the total cost

repenting anger and regretting brawls

each of us back to our home cavern crawls

lacking all trust not seeing that the crossed

sigils of lust all marked now by hard frost

no longer point toward ancestral halls

no struggle that we win nor war we lose

has meaning now the season’s not so ripe

as it was then in the full grip of youth

nor have we got the honest force to choose

but must it seems remain to carp and gripe

regarding what it means to speak the truth

fiction

what we have made is not enough for song

so we are told by critics of the age

who always urge the young to disengage

and tell the old they are no longer strong

the middle-aged must see they can’t belong

and therefore are required to quit the stage

it seems there is no text left on this page

that can’t be so thus the whole tale is wrong

where we began no hero could pretend

to claim the moment and the victor’s crown

but infant struggles of the teller’s art

convert each listener into a friend

bring each lost wanderer safe back to town

and know the climax is there from the start

no secret day

this is the limit of no secret day

when clouds depart and all enjoy the view

a sudden moment when each may renew

their sagging heart and then go on their way

more certain now of what’s set in the play

than all the wise when first wild flower blew

but knowledge is not all that can fall due

nor is hard money the best mode to pay

here is the rule be silent and go forth

not caring how the errand shall turn out

only expect to see an empty plate

on your return from harrowing the north

you shall discover matters are less stout

yet all will be well on the proper date

no secret day

this is the limit of no secret day

when clouds depart and all enjoy the view

a sudden moment when each may renew

their sagging heart and then go on their way

more certain now of what’s set in the play

than all the wise when first wild flower blew

but knowledge is not all that can fall due

nor is hard money the best mode to pay

here is the rule be silent and go forth

not caring how the errand shall turn out

only expect to see an empty plate

on your return from harrowing the north

you shall discover matters are less stout

yet all will be well on the proper date

dark gospel

if you mistake plain truth for silly word

your punishment shall not be very light

shall not last merely one short day and night

you’ll be cut out forever from the herd

rejected scorned listed with the absurd

treated as source of all disease and blight

you may think this is harsh not just nor right

but you’re the loser now the hunted bird

honour was what we asked and what we gave

to reach the place where only angels sleep

to find it empty and the treasure gone

this world is conquered and become a grave

where even maggots nightly fear to creep

and we may wonder what it is we won