Just another WordPress.com site
Let us say something of the composer too,
See him on the platform in his evening-dress
and in the street with his hat off
as he strolls in the early suhshine.
Thin as a fishbone
white as a lily
but seated at the piano he becomes a Dragon
he jangles ,cries, and sometimes barks
till the sky darkens and house-walls collapse.
By no means that real-life figure
who could stand in front of children to reach them
their mammers and their duties to mother and father.
Only in his dreams is his face turned towards us
only a music-maker never asking us
if we were there at the Elevation of the Host.
Every day he crosses the borders of good and evil
sometimes bringing a bouquet in his hand
from the place where fire is embers and
virging vanish and soldiers dies
No one would credit he is that singular man
the angel`s fiery sword hunted from Paradise.