at no one's beck and call

the stars above us with their glow
illuminate no simple places
we aren't the ones who want to know
just what is hidden by our faces
we move on upwards fast or slow
leaving behind the merest traces
each night there is another show
of all the righteous airs and graces

alarmed by every sort of call
we wait for others to agree
behind each happy sight a wall
is hidden yet the wise may see
the days are not so very tall
but last as long as we decree
the rain we hope will start to fall
before we want to go on spree

echoes across the empty plain
the voices of the storied past
those symbols of another pain
each wanting sure to be the last
all messages of hope or gain
upon the silent seas are cast
we leave behind some kind of stain
and all the heroes stand aghast

a meaningful sort of command
in proper ceremonial rite
defines to whom the very land
belongs and who is not in sight
of what the hardest-working band
brings back in profit day and night
the older practices are banned
and not a candle may burn bright

years may not pass before the dawn
of newer ways and better hearts
a host of weeds covers the lawn
no one assembles all the parts
brain counts for half as much as brawn
and armour cannot blunt the darts
the stag may overcome the fawn
but we have not the sable arts