the moon is dancing in the  village square

with happy girls whose eyes reflect the stars

while older folk bite down on their cigars

and watch the smoke rise through the calm night air

this is the time of change the turning year

moving fast downward but no harsh thing mars

the splendid moment and there are no bars

to joy this night the morning's time for fear

we do not know what sorrows still to come

will burn themselves into each youthful heart

no terrors lurk but love's rewards are won

though elder smiles conceal the truths of glum

experience they let the young ones dart

into dark corners soon enough comes sun

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

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

they fill in visions and repeat in sound

the touch of light on rock the moving shade

marking a changing time then the parade

of trucks and buses moving folk around

since we must hurry to get off this ground

back to our homes back to the normal trade

of simple speaking in words that are flayed

out of all meaning then twisted and bound

a short escape leads to another place

with older energies but the same tide

washed on that shore beneath a certain light

allowing these historians to trace

the roots of anger and the base of pride

straight to their homes in certainty and right

the masks are worn but still remain as true

as in the early day but when we move

beyond the instant second then the groove

has changed and there's no power to renew

what was ill-made by any human view

the which we have no right to disapprove

rather to wait as others would remove

our final hope with the bright morning dew

behind each mask no ordinary face

but visage bearing some immortal sign

come down to us from the ancestral race

as sign and symbol of a truth divine

for who we are and for the paths we tread

the times are clear and the meanings dread

few are the leaves and buds late on these trees

that heart grows weak and even time might ail

as weathers slowly change while the clouds sail

above our heads driven by random breeze

towards the east nothing that wants to please

our needy minds as this brief cold must fail

the warmth return before our hopes turn stale

and just in time our anger turn to ease

but in the night some matters are too deep

for ordinary dreams and break my rest

to let me know that there is no mistake

relief shall not be granted by kind sleep

the warmth of bed is not a comfy nest

but there are worse fates than coming awake

where we have been both sombre and perplexed

relieved in winter by the thoughts of light

in coming seasons knowing that the bright

hours that have passed will leave me no less vexed

than heavy cloud in this wintry context

of damp and rain and days that fade to night

with little notice nothing it seems is right

as we  engage to find out what comes next

this is the law by which our lives are bound

in lands both narrow and unseemly wide

to face the future with unsteady arms

in fainting hope of finding safer ground

not certain that there is a winning side

and listening for the end of all alarms

we leave behind the warm and easy pace

in places where the past remains awake

in swamp and cornfield for the old gods' sake

while modern wisdom does not show its face

except at urgent need the hot embrace

of constant summer overcomes mistake

in the fast living of each pool and lake

with ways of showing that there is still grace

what we approach is not as bright or bold

the subdued pallor of the northern skies

cannot approach the deep december blue

that give us cheer is kind and is not cold

announces promise yet contains no lies

but expectation of a future due

no name will matter at the very last

when all the pains we wandered for are done

in the last drops we crave of pallid sun

and the dark bones we hate are being cast

we'll smile and nod knowing we were outclassed

by those we taught who passed us on the run

not knowing that the game was not in fun

and soon they too will fade into the past

all that we know is just a tiny bit

of the whole tale a mere partial story

which each is given for their proper role

enough to play with some essay at wit

although we all wish the full of glory

not one of us can grasp the very whole