GONE TO EARTH

Dim below the harebells

His panting spirit goes,

Eluding as a thought will

A world of foes.

To the green world of grasses

Underneath the wind,

Where cold slips the dewdrop

And light falls thinned.

Safe from man’s imaginings,

And safe from his creed,

With love’s lovely errors,

And life indeed.

Unmanacled from goodness

And fetterless from sin,

Only the birdsong

Of life comes in.

Houselled in quietness

He cannot hear at all

The hunt’s false beauty,

The hounds’ vile brawl.

But there below the harebells

Lies the heart’s release,

The silver leaves of healing,

 The moveless wells of peace.