Green Poet Died
On the day the poet died
the grass turned brown and wilted
on the sylvan circle where danced
faerie on the nights of quarter'd
moon, waning and waxing,
mullioned light partialed through
the sieve of space and cedar:
the old trees fell uprooted
baring their naked under root
to the eye can see...
Brand new eventides of holiness
before the adytum of the age:
the eve of saint mahmoud, of dan,
the vigil of the insurgency,
the bonfires of the hanged man!
odes of malodorous justice
and committees run amok
with fear and loathly demoiselles
before the green saints and
green knights of our age!
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