this is the choice that we defy the night
for a short time and keep alive a spark
timid perhaps but worthy to remark
a simple thing of note to honest sight
rejection of the vast kingdom of blight
a wisdom that calls on us to skylark
with laughter to ignore the final dark
empowering the fragile human light
each one is a beginning we are told
to be recorded and to be advised
of what's around below and what's above
to find out what is clay and what true gold
what's best admired and what's best despised
the fruit of all our hope and all our love

not given much to metaphor as fact
the student struggles to relate her tale
each sentence on its own will sag or fail
the effort turns out bloated not compact
her model is the sermon and the tract
and writing comes to her like time in gaol
the style is cold the images are stale
and the whole enterprise with pain is packed
the reader wants so much to go outside
and take his whirling thoughts for a long walk
but finishing the job is all his pride
so from the horrid task he dare not balk
no leave nor yet excuse he has to plead
so the next essay he picks up to read

this is the verb that we declare must stand
for place and season taken out of time
by our decision rendered full sublime
by simplest action of creative hand
uttered each morning by serene command
the sound itself is richer than each chime
of golden bells tuned to a perfect prime
while the symbolic meaning is so grand
all that we say can be reduced to this
concision of significance and sound
where every symbol strains into the light
yet not a thing is here that we could miss
even if we retreat to harder ground
since we have turned our backs upon the night

out of the light some errant hope may creep
to stay harsh fears and keep in stern control
those bitter terrors which reign over sleep
since we are many miles short of our goal
nor can a single one afford the toll
for all our efforts we have come up short
one of our heads might yet adorn a pole
there is no justice in our rulers' court

our sense of history does not go deep
nor yet much further than the old school roll
for we want all our stories on the cheap
and honour is not something we extol
we want the stallion but not the foal
and find it is so easy to distort
the symbols that are written on the scroll
there is no justice in our rulers' court

in coming dark we will react like sheep
whose bleating the kind butcher must console
before he throws each body on the heap
or drinks another beer from his large bowl
the watcher might just find the whole thing droll
or take the scheduled slaughter for good sport
did he not see the shepherd on patrol
there is no justice in our rulers' court
prince you believe your subject has no soul
and can say nothing here of great import
but without him you cannot soon be whole
there is no justice in our rulers' court

this is the place where pigeons play their games
untroubled by the large ungainly folk
who never have been seen to get the joke

birds **** on heroes and on noble dames
that's not a fact that we want to evoke
this is the place where pigeons play their games

here where our leaders make their sordid claims
upon our hearts and liars go for broke
old beggars note again the stinking smoke
this is the place where pigeons play their games

we catch the ***** at night on the black road
just shovel them into the waiting bag
until the sweat pools and your spirits flag

above the stars signal in arcane code
while you wipe down with an old smelly rag
we catch the ***** at night on the black road

that leads us back to where the waters flowed
past all the places where we let hope sag
back into swamp where memories might nag
we catch the ***** at night on the black road

you haven't got the sense to make things short
when length must matter brevity's the key
to bridge the immense gap from is to ought
which many of us do not want to see
since clarity of vision makes us flee
straight to the place where no one wants to hide
afraid of all the facts that cannot be
but truth and passion have to coincide

 your choices do not lead us to support
the cause that we learnt at our parents' knee
when we were told that it was dearly bought
and at that time all things seemed to agree
with what we wanted and no absentee
masters abroad were eager to deride
nor wail and whimper like a mad banshee
but truth and passion have to coincide

 you think the vessel won't get into port
since nothing you commanded came to be
while those you ordered have to face a court
and some of then will hang from gallows-tree
or lie beneath a dark and angry sea
as fate and anguish either may decide
since neither time nor  force will hear your plea
but truth and passion have to coincide

 prince you have given cause to disagree
with all your actions but you've shown esprit
the problem is you've chosen the wrong side
the time has come to fight or else to flee
but truth and passion have to coincide