no thought or regret

brash thunder in the dark is low and deep

it bids us rest and dream of milky light

of other places where with fresher sight

the follies of the seasons slower creep

may well be judged by those who always keep

a weather eye for things to come out right

as safe from mortal horror that's the plight

of one who knows just what hides down in sleep

there's better clarity in the grey dawn

a different heat another sort of life

to be confronted choices to be met

one fearful terrapin seen on the lawn

draws in its head for fear of hurt or strife

but then goes on with no thought or regret

the human touch

we know each mountain has to have a name

to fix in place what's true to foot and eye

allow for thought lest history go by

announcing that our hearts and tongues were lame

and silent that's the nature of this game

we label both the rock and butterfly

put signs in mobile water and still sky

so that the world entire is ours to frame

some other choice we might have to behold

a universe and let it go its way

without harsh imprint of the human touch

still we think ourselves noble brave and bold

eager to go forth and extend our sway

not caring in the  end we do too much

what's most desired

your choices are not made out of true hope

that honour will be gained beyond despair

in this long war you're not that kind of dope

to think that outcomes must turn out quite fair

the action that you take is most precise

and never needs return for second slice

besides you know to go against the grain

would give us all some reason to complain

instead you give us all an even hand

you make things honest open just and plain

our wishes start and finish with our land

your kindness teaches us that we must cope

when we had thought the case was past repair

taking our feet up the long dismal slope

unto the place where the long view is clear

where vision serves in place of good advice

and we may learn just what is the true price

that we have paid for knowledge not arcane

given the sorrows of a long campaign

while you provide us with words soft and bland

and music of a gentle plaintive strain

our wishes start and finish with our land

your words inform that we are out of rope

and at cliff's edge looking out on the air

but you're not giving us lies or soft-soap

and we have had the full time to prepare

the options are no tossing of the dice

and all our preparations will suffice

you have not sent us out into the rain

uncovered nor need we ever explain

just why we have to make our final stand

for simple good that's not measured in gain

our wishes start and finish with our land

prince you announce our good you will attain

and all our enemies you shall constrain

such words are wondrous and such hopes are grand

but princes always were the people's bane

our wishes start and finish with our land

the scent of paradise

so much is said by those who have to speak

in doubled phrases and in words which bite

so deeply that our hearts lose their delight

and all is darkness life becomes so bleak

all hope is lost in getting what we seek

and every choice leads only into blight

this sort of magic turns high noon to night

leaving us all dispirited and weak

what's absent here is just the honest word

uttered by decent souls who know that kind

regard goes further than law's formal writ

but what we have is odourific turd

showing its presence even to the blind

making it clear that all are in the shit

silence into laughter

there's reason for our silence at your boast

of honours gained but we would never mock

the complex manner in which you take stock

of those who might give unto you the most

value for effort there's certainly no ghost

of a chance that our sharpest words would  rock

your placid mind nor ever serve to shock

your foolish heart that is why you are toast

our hopes are otherwise for you to learn

new meanings in the light and make it plain

that you have understood the open word

of those who do far more than simply yearn

for what has been who go far past their pain

into the laughing world of the absurd

the warm assurance of sweet sound

our voices echo silence is the crime

we need the warm assurance of sweet sound

for all our urgency fears empty time

so much is caught between the fall and climb

but haste is needed to bring things around

our voices echo silence is the crime

for which we will be punished now the chime

of teachers' bell is something most profound

for all our urgency fears empty time

which must be filled with order the sublime

decree of trust in which we seek for ground

our voices echo silence is the crime

and we're so guilty yet we have to prime

the rule of virtues so they might abound

for all our urgency fears empty time

while hope for magic is expressed in rhyme

which we desire to ring and to resound

our voices echo silence is the crime

for all our urgency fears empty time