Dsguise is worse than lies
Hear the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat
We die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence
Soon, my lady very soon: if you please, your hand.

Tender is the Night
And all her forgotten beauty
People pass out of sight
On this August midnight
When the serpent and the saviour sit
Side-by-side
Somewhere in old-England.

No truths hidden from our lady moon
No disguising this faint silvery tune.
Such wide-open rosy faces, facing the blackest sky,
Gnarled hands shade her frightened eyes,
There is no time for disguise..

On this day of flowers, the animals follow
The usual path of the sun
Ripples in the air coagulate like water,
All manner of things mirror our big brother sun
On this shining  Ἀρκαδία of August 1941.

Sweet airs fill the breezes
Forgotten summer scents,
O! The billowing of  intent
Reed and oak and beech
This beautiful canopy of the living green,
Shimmering in this seemimgly too bright light.

Thunder clouds swarm
Rumble out of sight.
I climb this vertiginous cliff path,
Which connects the now and then,
In all its chasmal beauty.
This brightest of stars
On the blackest of nights.

On Good Friday in Mosul
And all over the plains of Nineveh
Abomination, defilement, disgrace
That leave the gates of heaven firmly closed
And the gates of hell a crowded place.



....