through gemini skies of all who walk devine

through Gemini skies of all who walk devine

what purpose in a crawl of bright elite?

what flesh on bone that burns a brighter grave?

a king in exile lost

a legacy of three roads hanging still.

no nightingale of years of rich desire

until the last our memories of May.

how many doorsteps dream of days gone by?

through soldiers eyes of sycamore and mud

our dead child free of all until this last

should London call at dusk and beg reprieve;

bouquets and bracelets

three days gone by

still I stand and stare a human voice;

a road to youth all laughing bells 

as one of two old crows is as it ends;

for all the dead of amaranth and rose

a lizard to the tongue such is a lie

to argue each as militant and crab;

when this old world was new

how ripe the flutes that dared our trees to hang!

those two I met in Venice

both orphans from a light of breathing snow

four words but still all poets dammed

all words of persephone from Derwent's pen;

all things must die

so ask no more for early spring

now splendour in the arts of letters lost

write me a while for I remember not

the greatest love of sea and merriment;