The probing knife of madness</br>Can start a dullard brain;</br>Cold cheeks feel kisses</br>And warm with tears again - Donald Davidson

For he has seen a road by healing waters</br>Hushed into wintry slate against the sand,</br>And spoken there with the wind's elfin daughters,</br>And mingled in their dusty saraband.</br></br>He has known winds that blow from blossomy closes,</br>Rich with the fruity smell of summertide,</br>And kissed warm faery lips... Now he reposes,</br>While we are not quite certain he has died.

Then no soft arms could hold me from my wilderness </br>To reap at daylight's fallow edge, with bullet or knife,</br>That flicker of hoof or pelt, that flash of wings returning -</br>The dogs trace it - harvest of life that gives me life.

I want the word that burns into my heart</br>Like God's coal alive on the Prophet's tongue.</br>I would listen now while memory is ablaze</br>To seal your testament within my soul.