Jul. 16th, 2008

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

if we will measure only the green glow

of noontime forests we may not learn all

that we desire the way that the slight fall

of tired leaves has marked off what we know

from what is hidden not a daily show

but something that might lead us just to call

our hearts to action the sun must stand tall

above our heads and our feet not be slow

not now the time for hope in magic forms

our choices must be urgent and depend

upon the blending of our thought and sight

it is our duty to obey the norms

not to bow down before each changing trend

but always to proclaim the rising light

prosper

Jul. 16th, 2008 03:06 pm
fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

the ruddy glow of the old-fashioned lamp

a shadow though the jalousies a cry

as potoo grasps her prey this is the high

and reverent worship which we must stamp

upon each soul even as tired feet tramp

uphill again past every staring eye

through the long shades without a single sigh

within your thought you deem this place a camp

in the far distance something you can't see

will draw you onward fill your mind with fire

of what you do not know but want to find

past this last valley there's an open sea

and beyond that all that you could desire

the price is that you leave your heart behind

fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)

we each desire to guard our own half-acre

no night must fall while we can hold command

you understand the only honest taker

 

the gift we know belongs once to the taker

who can obtain it cleanly from the hand

we each desire to guard our own half-acre

 

so much depends at last on the forsaker

who stands there silent faceless and quite bland

you understand the only honest taker

 

the salt is gritty when its in the shaker

and does not seem to be ready to hand

we each desire to guard our own half-acre

 

this is the moment for the final breaker

it is as if it had been ready planned

you understand the only honest taker

 

bread comes to us by virtue of the baker

we do not think of it as something grand

we each desire to guard our own half-acre

you understand the only honest taker

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fledgist: Me in a yellow shirt. (Default)
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