august morning has come round

so now all clocks are showing the time's passed
for wearing chains and keeping dark heads bowed
since august morning has come round at last

although the sons of hate may stand aghast
we know our parents wept but were not cowed
so now all clocks are showing the time's passed

and we will leave till now we had held fast
but we can show the world that we are proud
since august morning has come round at last

so long a silence then the thunderblast
of our rejoicing we were good and loud
so now the clocks are showing the time's passed

for humble patient service we will cast
away all bondage tear apart the shroud
since august morning has come round at last

with our free hands we sanctify the past
as for the future we face it unbowed
so now all clocks are showing the time's passed
since august morning has come round at last

ordinary hearts

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

iuvenes dum sumus

the music moves across the cold grey sea
through empty space and then the warm applause
erupts into my heart the proper cause
is truth and order in all that we see
set out before us the true honest plea
of decent life that grows without a pause
through urgent summer with its verdant laws
written in thunder music sets us free
now let our eyes not focus on the cloud
but seek the sunlight and the surging tide
never complain that enemies are proud
nor that there are key matters to decide
for now's the moment to use your own voice
unleash your proper laughter and rejoice

summery torment

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

a storm approaches

we watch the summer swallows swoop and soar
beneath the heavy clouds while children sleep
oblivious to the way the long hours creep


like mice through the long grass so we abhor
the many pressures that have made us weep
we watch the summer swallows swoop and soar


so near our heads it must affect the score
and strike our hearts the fountain's source is deep
in native rock meanwhile like passive sheep
we watch the summer swallows swoop and soar

getting it right

the key is getting human feeling right

not only understanding of the fact

and answer blending suavity and tact


but proper sensing of the victim's plight

with sentiments concrete and not abstract

the key is getting human feeling right


then sitting with the injured through the night

binding their wounds when they had been attacked

ensuring they had the one thing they lacked

the key is getting human feeling right

the root of glamour

there is no wonder where there is no hope
we learn this truth before we learn to speak
defining magic as just one more trope

among the ones with which we have to cope
tools of the just and weapons of the meek
there is no wonder where there is no hope

so we declare but yet the merest dope
believes his circumstances are unique
defining magic as just one more trope

that must be learnt before he climbs the slope
towards the greatest highest noble peak
there is no wonder where there is no hope

those are the words and they are no soft soap
serving to guide us unto what we seek
defining magic as just one more trope

of our old language so that gives us scope
for honest understanding and critique
there is no wonder where there is no hope
defining magic as just one more trope

gradus ad parnassum

each journey's not a problem for the road
but recollection tricks us into tears
each sudden image coming unawares
and then revealing there's a complex code
that we'd forgotten then time overflowed
into each heart and took away our fears
washed out the sad crustation of the years
displaying all the good that was bestowed
in this refraction what we see is clear
to older heads unbowed by weight of age
whose eyes preserve a proper youthful sight
with memory of that softer mountain air
of solemn words declared on rustic stage
before a passage into tropic light