Willow Walk

august morning has come round

so now all clocks are showing the time's passed

for wearing chains and keeping dark heads bowed

since august morning has come round at last

although the sons of hate may stand aghast

we know our parents wept but were not cowed

so now all clocks are showing the time's passed

and we will leave till now we had held fast

but we can show the world that we are proud

since august morning has come round at last

so long a silence then the thunderblast

of our rejoicing we were good and loud

so now the clocks are showing the time's passed

for humble patient service we will cast

away all bondage tear apart the shroud

since august morning has come round at last

with our free hands we sanctify the past

as for the future we face it unbowed

so now all clocks are showing the time's passed

since august morning has come round at last

ordinary hearts

truth comes in the gaze of eye and ear

and is released in ways that we find best

in simple language nothing can be expressed

but in a form and fashion that is dear

to ordinary hearts now we adhere

in principle and practice to the test

of frailty in all that is confessed

by guardians who will not succumb to fear

duty requires action as well as speech

from those told off to watch the border wall

for signs of trouble coming with the spring

but courage makes us all extend our reach

makes us imagine ourselves ten feet tall

and gives our hearts and voices cause to sing

iuvenes dum sumus

the music moves across the cold grey sea

through empty space and then the warm applause

erupts into my heart the proper cause

is truth and order in all that we see

set out before us the true honest plea

of decent life that grows without a pause

through urgent summer with its verdant laws

written in thunder music sets us free

now let our eyes not focus on the cloud

but seek the sunlight and the surging tide

never complain that enemies are proud

nor that there are key matters to decide

for now's the moment to use your own voice

unleash your proper laughter and rejoice

summery torment

the outlines of this message are so clear

to those who wait to hear it at the door

of heavy summer there is so much more

that we will need coming across the air

the loudest want us all to be aware

of sacrifice and that since they abhor

all urgent pain they will remove the sore

by drastic means while stating they are fair

what was unknown turns out to be just brief

exploding anguish on the tainted scene

a sign perhaps of animating spark

or else the voice of one more human's grief

at what has turned into a might-have-been

and gone away like all else into dark

a storm approaches

we watch the summer swallows swoop and soar

beneath the heavy clouds while children sleep

oblivious to the way the long hours creep

 

 

like mice through the long grass so we abhor

the many pressures that have made us weep

we watch the summer swallows swoop and soar

 

 

so near our heads it must affect the score

and strike our hearts the fountain's source is deep

in native rock meanwhile like passive sheep

we watch the summer swallows swoop and soar

getting it right

the key is getting human feeling right

not only understanding of the fact

and answer blending suavity and tact

but proper sensing of the victim's plight

with sentiments concrete and not abstract

the key is getting human feeling right

then sitting with the injured through the night

binding their wounds when they had been attacked

ensuring they had the one thing they lacked

the key is getting human feeling right

the root of glamour

there is no wonder where there is no hope

we learn this truth before we learn to speak

defining magic as just one more trope

among the ones with which we have to cope

tools of the just and weapons of the meek

there is no wonder where there is no hope

so we declare but yet the merest dope

believes his circumstances are unique

defining magic as just one more trope

that must be learnt before he climbs the slope

towards the greatest highest noble peak

there is no wonder where there is no hope

those are the words and they are no soft soap

serving to guide us unto what we seek

defining magic as just one more trope

of our old language so that gives us scope

for honest understanding and critique

there is no wonder where there is no hope

defining magic as just one more trope

gradus ad parnassum

each journey's not a problem for the road

but recollection tricks us into tears

each sudden image coming unawares

and  then revealing there's a complex code

that we'd forgotten then time overflowed

into each heart and took away our fears

washed out the sad crustation of the years

displaying all the good that was bestowed

in this refraction what we see is clear

to older heads unbowed by weight of age

whose eyes preserve a proper youthful sight

with memory of that softer mountain air

of solemn words declared on rustic stage

before a passage into tropic light