through the green fuse

the names we give things tell an open tale
a shaping of the world to fit our hearts
creation of our lives from disparate parts
the final selling of what's not for sale
a new succession that we hope won't fail
the mingling and the making of our arts
it happens all at once and once it starts
will withstand almost any storm or gale
not for us here the manifold reports
of the artillery that defends all desire
but the fresh calm of spring's new green
the way to a man's heart is not by sports
but the awakening of the old banked fire
and a new balance or a better mean