we find no limits on these warming days
when the horizon beckons us to flee
out past the forest deep into the haze

for those indoors whose eyes are all aglaze
with lack of vision there's a thing to see
we find no limits on these warming days

our minds are liberated from the maze
of ordinary tasks we choose to be
out past the forest deep into the haze

where all of life has changed in this new phase
the rules are different both for bird and tree
we find no limits on these warming days

where light and colour mingle in one blaze
while heart and mind in peace have to agree
out past the forest deep into the haze

breaking the silence in melodious phrase
one chant of joy from mountain down to sea
we find no limits on these warming days
out past the forest deep into the haze

the words come clear by thought they're not unkind
and say those things that wisdom would intend
in careful thought there's nothing here to mend
so to say truth we're in no sort of bind
no trap no evil case has been defined
nor have we with fell beings to contend
our choice is clear the task is to defend
the facts about the kingdom of the blind
where anyone would go to find the pain
within the heart of he who built the fort
is not for me right now to speak or say
enough to note the hauteur and distain
for those who came up just a bit too short
or did not understand when it was day

no mystery nor reason for the day
to start so simply since the bright alarm
brought us to wakefulness with simple charm
while this last warden had now news to say
but that there were some causes for delay
and none for haste but we are past all harm
of foolish words nor may the time disarm
our urgent thoughts we must be on our way
onward to where the final tolling bell
cannot be heard and then so far beyond
that on our senses we cannot depend
who will not know if any live to tell
the meaning and the substance of our bond
or who will care that any reach the end

each word is chosen that the whole may sing
in clearest harmony with measure fair
so that past winter we may see new spring

we early learn the value that we'll bring
to the fresh task our hopes are more than air
each word is chosen that the whole may sing

of coming magics and the truths that cling
to every heart in times of hard despair
so that past winter we may see new spring

throw out green shoots and let new branches swing
on the young trees light will once more be clear
each word is chosen that the whole may sing

in tones that reach the bird on highest wing
of better life and times in good repair
so that past winter we may see new spring

and spirits lightened all our hearts shall ring
with jubilation at relief of care
each word is chosen that the whole may sing
so that past winter we may see new spring

pale yellow blooms under a silver tree

out of a legend that we do not know

this warm reminder with its pallid glow



absent all anger absent too all glee

for a short season we absorb the show

pale yellow blooms under a silver tree



so magic fills the air and what we see

is all the ground covered in golden snow

a lovely moment if we let it be

pale yellow blooms under a silver tree

a simple honest vision birds in flight
across the narrow valley in dim air
while very slowly we prepare for night

in one swift moment we have to indite
magical incantations of despair
a simple honest vision birds in flight

will come upon us in the final light
to draw from every eye a single tear
while very slowly we prepare for night

in manner of old custom law and rite
withstanding all injustice pain and fear
a simple honest vision birds in flight

will transport each of us to some new height
beyond the weight of suffering or care
while very slowly we prepare for night

with understanding of both truth and right
to match the music that will make all clear
a simple honest vision birds in flight
while very slowly we prepare for night

the southern aspect of a season's tale
when clouds have parted and the days advance
with kinder sunlight into springs expanse
just at the point where hearts might seek to fail
is our new vantage right here we inhale
both air and sound the enemies of chance
encourage hearts to feel the hope of dance
and with a new enlightenment to sail
good airs inspire the lungs and cause the feet
to find their rhythm with the season’s change
in a new blend that came from over sea
a deeper wiser measure of the street
bringing homeward what was once so strange
to make us in the end a bit more free

the journey we've begun has no right end
or so we think since all our hopes are wild
for there are many motives we'll defend
though not all of our charges are defiled
by hatreds of the sort that you reviled
when speaking in plain justice of the fact
that none of us come through the world intact

each of the winners learns just how to bend
the moment that she stops being a child
while he who's wise knows best just to pretend
a temperament that's always calm and mild
just so the watching eye is safe beguiled
none of these matters is at all abstract
keep this in mind and you won't be attacked

not one of us can think now to depend
on those who might be honourably styled
our champions we can't call on one friend
whose name is not in the red record filed
to live full grown and not die as a child
that's all the purpose we will not be wracked
but others must be seen to live and act

down south you forget the ripening leaves
and chilly mornings of bright october
no matter for redly a dying time grieves

sunlight on water fair smiling deceives
at dawn the frost shone ******* grass and clover
down south you forget the ripening leaves

yet clock there remains the swiftest of thieves
treating the same way both stayer and rover
no matter for redly a dying time grieves

telling each young one that what he believes
is false never true and patience is over
down south you forget the ripening leaves

slowly to slaughter we marched off the beeves
a suitable task for the youthful drover
no matter how redly a dying time grieves

the adult must measure how much he achieves
in calm acquiescence knowingly sober
down south you forget the ripening leaves
no matter how redly a dying time grieves

have caught the missing moment of each day
taken it prisoner and won't release
a single second of our hope's increase
out of plain fear that golden light could stray
from warming hands that yet know how to play
the human game without harm or caprice
into cold air that would soon end all peace
sending the waiting watchers on their way
have known hard losses and much harder wins
on courses and on surfaces that yield
their gifts to those who have little to tell
though coldest nights save the long count of sins
serving as sustenance across the field
while each survivor wishes they could yell

take this and jell it as remembered light

one simple gesture laughing at a joke

in middle afternoon and at one stroke

you've got it down and kept it in plain sight

when all the other moments take their flight

or disappear behind the darkest cloak

of all forgetting where the world is broke

but yet we act to make things come out right

vision is sure and clear when you are young

so slow to fade but still the edges pale

we can't recall the colour of the stone

on the south wall nor where the laundry hung

long years have passed and recollections fail

still there is crystal fire within the bone

hyacinths and daffs in the flowerbed
those eager plantings of last summer's heat
they are the voices of our dearest dead

we have not asked just what the blossoms said
nor listened long to the black loamy beat
hyacinths and daffs in the flowerbed

have no regret nor signal any dread
their meaning is not evil it is sweet
they are the voices of our dearest dead

returning to us in the garden spread
in sudden colour in the light complete
hyacinths and daffs in the flowerbed

each shocking signal sent right to the head
and heart that with old sorrow is replete
these are the voices of our dearest dead

gone now but leaving us with souls full fed
since life refuses to accept defeat
hyacinths and daffs in the flowerbed
they are the voices of our dearest dead

the deepest silence comes right after rain
just before nightfall when the milky light
seems full of portents while your straining sight
catches some glimpse of homing bird seen plain
at the right moment when the skies attain
that perfect colour fading fast from bright
just north of where begins the rule of night
to make us sigh now that is what we gain
here in the kingdom where no fools may rule
there is contentment earned at a high cost
by those of us who know not what we pay
nor understand the lessons of this school
until we find the gifts we thought long lost
and on a sudden learn we're on the way

go through the shallows then out past the wreck
until you reach the point where water burns
you’ll know it clearly by the sharp returns
then note the ship the one with golden deck
and figurehead of angel with wry neck
you’d sign up on her as one does who yearns
for urgent journeys yet as each child learns
there are no funds left to support the cheque
still without vision no one would begin
a single enterprise and we’d remain
stuck in the mud unable to set sail
instead we face each whimsy with a grin
allow the facts of chance to come out plain
and turn our faces right into the gale

there are some facts that will my anger trigger
as when a child eats ******* from a skip
or dumb inanity escapes some lip
or when the worst express themselves with vigour
for i love best good honest thought and rigour
and want life to improve at a smart clip
to have a world with neither chain nor whip
where no one will be called a slave or ******
this is a future all can understand
and tightly hold in each understanding
where gold is not a synonym for worth
and help is to be found from every hand
while every boat comes tinto a safe landing
and every child is welcomed at their birth

so much is said by those who have to speak
in doubled phrases and in words which bite
so deeply that our hearts lose their delight
and all is darkness life becomes so bleak
all hope is lost in getting what we seek
and every choice leads only into blight
this sort of magic turns high noon to night
leaving us all dispirited and weak
what's absent here is just the honest word
uttered by decent souls who know that kind
regard goes further than law's formal writ
but what we have is odourific ****
showing its presence even to the blind
making it clear that all are in the ****

you make your vision plain in every word
the pulse of nature moving in full heat
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

nothing is clear all eyesight is quite blurred
the trip is over none will come to greet
you make your vision plain in every word

since on your tongue all truth has been conferred
but this hard fact we're made of bone and meat
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

proclaiming season's changes have recurred
but time is motion every year more fleet
you make your vision plain in every word

including those that we have not yet heard
break out of silence still our peace is sweet
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

to wake the morning and to cry absurd
notes of redemption for each empty street
you make your vision plain in every word
and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

when all is measured time begins to grate
upon the senses then we have to start
a different sort of journey where the part
that makes our human feeling more than freight
is what's required to set the message straight
not only in the realms of work and art
but so the honest signal might depart
from deep inside to past the furthest gate
not every cloud is signal of new rain
or so we learn from waiting as each night
the sigh of wind brings us no fresh relief
from all our suffering and the hard pain
nor are the killer birds disturbed in flight
nor yet the door secured against the thief

this empty form with simple sound
is filled echoes amplify the space
they occupy but lack  the grace

to be both honest and profound
as keepers of spirit and pace
this empty form with simple sound

becomes the whole complete and round
that we desire more than the chase
of life itself marked on each face
this empty form with simple sound

there's no occasion to admit defeat
beneath an empty sky of callous blue
in this proud season when we must renew
so many hopes our senses cannot treat
these many messages of the hard street
as what they are and the time's overdue
for easy answers so the young must rue
what they can't know and old ones lose the beat
we change the era as we change our socks
in solemn mode but yet with little thought
of any deeper meaning in the act
one moment free the next cast on the rocks
with every motion seeming overwrought
our species lost now between truth and fact

there's reason for our silence at your boast
of honours gained but we would never mock
the complex manner in which you take stock
of those who might give unto you the most
value for effort there's certainly no ghost
of a chance that our sharpest words would  rock
your placid mind nor ever serve to shock
your foolish heart that is why you are toast
our hopes are otherwise for you to learn
new meanings in the light and make it plain
that you have understood the open word
of those who do far more than simply yearn
for what has been who go far past their pain
into the laughing world of the absurd

now pink and white to trumpet urgent spring
we see these blooms that were not there last night
and hearts are gladdened by this joyful sight
such lovely touches a fine day can bring
with the whole world brought into proper swing
nature's true colours turned honestly bright
after soft rain that seemed for once just right
both mind and heart demand to shout and sing
order will pass we know but for this day
we take the kindness as a goodly gift
one all the better since it soon will pass
into oblivion as is still the way
of all those living things which move so swift
from blazing sight to underneath the grass

there are so many failings but the one
that most we fear will come to us so fast
it will not truly matter we will cast
away anger and hope then face the sun
one final time knowing the course is done
all dues are paid and all pain in the past
where it belongs nothing left but one blast
of rage or vision to pay for the run
so is it set in the soft human mud
that we call history shaped by the tide
of shallow seas that will all marks erase
and take away as well the taint of blood
letting forgetfulness replace all pride
and a calm vista do instead of praise

our world turns all experience into test
just so we're measured each and every day
each purpose is the same to be the best

the angry and the ones who acquiesced
in the strict rules by which we willed to play
our world turns all experience into test

they said to us and we thought it a jest
until the last good choices went away
each purpose is the same to be the best

at this long game and not to be depressed
is what the teacher said and we were grey
our world turns all experience into test

with each achievement losing all its zest
once skill has turned it into just more play
each purpose is the same to be the best

so that is all the worth we may attest
while each of us has some good word to say
our world turns all experience into test
each purpose is the same to be the best

no thought of loss just so much heavy grey
thickness of smoke  unfolding on the ground
removing colour flattening all sound
and yet we can note little of the day
too warm we think but yet no time for play
all wait to hear a message more profound
but all who speak seem narrow closely bound
by weighty powers all have lost the way
instead of music we have flighty speech
to serve as background for the journey out
beyond the doors to where all roads must start
each of us pledged to do our best to reach
the highest goal and by the human art
we know the best to overcome all doubt

no one who feels the changing seasons' bite
can be assured that growth is purely good
since each tall tree each ancient of the wood
that waits there leafless through the winter night
with chilly taproot is in the same plight
as you might be and has for long withstood
the final pain in ways you wish you could
but it wont matter there'll be a last rite
spring is too short and one day sap won't rise
to renew bud and energise new leaf
but for the moment all we have is time
and universes open to our eyes
the products none of them of our belief
while every limb towards the sun must climb

he saplings in the yard are in first leaf

their spring has now begun but it is late

maples they are and ruddy in relief



we ask the world for hope and no mischief

to strike us as we come out through the gate

the saplings in the yard are in first leaf



the pleasant season but we know it's brief

yet we are forced each year to a long wait

maples they are and ruddy in relief



time strikes us now as a harsh nasty thief

we look in pain at every passing date

the saplings in the yard are in first leaf



but life's revival brings no great relief

we're in the season of pain and debate

maples they are and ruddy in relief



all they can do now is recall hard grief

not reconcile us to eventual fate

the saplings in the yard are in first leaf

maples they are and ruddy in relief

no accident of language catches quite
the changing shades of meaning that reflect
not what is said but what we could reject
if well presented to our proper sight
but when we take as given in due right
and not as secrets of some hidden sect
they are the matters we have truly checked
and we are lost deep in the summer night
yet no one wonders at the altered state
nor at the clash of symbols that is seen
by those few waking through the starlit time
eager  to find a different sort of fate
but not to learn just what it ought to mean
nor yet the purpose of the long hard climb

mark this for turn of hope or choice or chance
that when we rise our hearts to joy are turned
instead of knowing that our work had earned
such tiny wages but the real advance
we did not realize nor yet enhance
those ways in which the greater fires burned
but did not eat up all of those who yearned
to set their feet free in the happy dance
now we have given you our honest word
and you fall silent it is not enough
that you do nothing to prevent our walk
along the forest path where golden bird
is seen at sunset matters not so tough
must in the end be subjects of your talk

such clarity in morning sky
a world of promise showing green
with purple buds beyond the screen

no chance today the earth will dry
while we are caught in the machine
such clarity in morning sky

will soon be past the time goes by
swiftly to conquer the serene
leaving as record of the scene
such clarity in morning sky

the outlines of this message are so clear
to those who wait to hear it at the door
of heavy summer there is so much more
that we will need coming across the air
the loudest want us all to be aware
of sacrifice and that since they abhor
all urgent pain they will remove the sore
by drastic means while stating they are fair
what was unknown turns out to be just brief
exploding anguish on the tainted scene
a sign perhaps of animating spark
or else the voice of one more human's grief
at what has turned into a might-have-been
and gone away like all else into dark

no grieving then but seize the darting joys
that pass like summer birds above the lake
enjoy the time and all the things you make

ignore the pain avoid the childish noise
see how the breezes still the reeds do shake
no grieving then but seize the darting joys

before they pass on to new girls and boys
as life requires since every reed must break
eternity's the dream that we mistake
no grieving then but seize the darting joys

thunder declaring with a mighty noise
what we once knew but later chose to hide
believing we had so few other ploys
and only a small chance to save our pride
this was the the noble sound we came to hear
sublimest product of the engineer
of music there was the full weight of night
being lifted up around us the height
of passion reached in moments and the pace
of dragons felt as if it were their right
we knew it all and knew it all for grace

the calm the strain the skill that he deploys
marks the director as the truest guide
brimful of zest and  yet with equipoise
he knows he's got us all here for the ride
to turn us all at once to wolf and deer
and have a world of magic just appear
before our eyes without the power of sight
by mass effect of sound and not of light
no easy thing our plain lives to displace
a thousand voices is a tool of might
we knew it all and knew it all for grace

my eye is on the many girls and boys
in rank behind as all these worlds collide
what do they know how do they have such poise
in the great task in which they are allied
so much depends on voice bright and austere
all deeply human that is very clear
we have full understanding of the rite
and know the meaning all the words incite
into the sacred silence of this space
hope for escape from the old mortal plight
we knew it all and knew it all for grace

prince you have asked about that magic night
and how the mass of sound was got just right
across the world i tell you to your face
you had to be there darkness vanished quite
we knew it all and knew it all for grace

nothing we have is greater than this gift
of light in motion on the eastern wall
midafternoon the moments seem to crawl
the music flows and mind appears to drift
from work to sleep always an easy shift
you're tired and your thought's not on the ball
there is no duty and no one will call
no need for passion nor any for thrift
listen the song begins and it is clear
coming a distance and gentle in tone
so many voices urging you to rest
with magic now upon the summer air
announcing that you will not be alone
giving the day that extra bit of zest

no time to change from what i used to be
but now and when it happens i must leave
not just this place but all that i conceive
to be in tune with senses that agree
in total beauty that we all can see
in that one moment when we cease to grieve
for all our losses that i must believe
will become true for what is the new me
we fall into the silence one by one
who were a certain band and knew our way
in the strong moment of unpolished youth
but there's still light the time is far from done
and there is much to do while it is day
that is my story and it is the truth

your choices are not made out of true hope
that honour will be gained beyond despair
in this long war you're not that kind of dope
to think that outcomes must turn out quite fair
the action that you take is most precise
and never needs return for second slice
besides you know to go against the grain
would give us all some reason to complain
instead you give us all an even hand
you make things honest open just and plain
our wishes start and finish with our land

your kindness teaches us that we must cope
when we had thought the case was past repair
taking our feet up the long dismal *****
unto the place where the long view is clear
where vision serves in place of good advice
and we may learn just what is the true price
that we have paid for knowledge not arcane
given the sorrows of a long campaign
while you provide us with words soft and bland
and music of a gentle plaintive strain
our wishes start and finish with our land

your words inform that we are out of rope
and at cliff's edge looking out on the air
but you're not giving us lies or soft-soap
and we have had the full time to prepare
the options are no tossing of the dice
and all our preparations will suffice
you have not sent us out into the rain
uncovered nor need we ever explain
just why we have to make our final stand
for simple good that's not measured in gain
our wishes start and finish with our land

prince you announce our good you will attain
and all our enemies you shall constrain
such words are wondrous and such hopes are grand
but princes always were the people's bane
our wishes start and finish with our land

so here we are beneath the pallid ray
of summer noontime seeking to escape
for just one moment from the normal shape
of discreet instance so that we might play
a different sort of role where one could say
the angry words to those with mouth agape
that tell apart the angel from the ape
but those are for another cooler day
instead we look to work a better will
in places where the choice is not so bright
as underneath the growing midday roar
of silver needles passing by the hill
each flashing clearly in the brilliant light
so bidding us to join with them and soar

those places that are marked on every map
we drew in childhood to ensure our play
had structure in the mind that they would stay
solidly longer than the infant pap
of other games would drift through every nap
shaping the dream out of imagined clay
to make a brightness greater than the day
when ordinary life was only crap
from word to vision the true path is clear
so that you take it with eyes truly cold
through the divisions of a world in strife
with all the forces that would shred and tear
your heart and spirit as you become old
reject them all and choose the better life

not unexpected even kings must die

it was no secret everyone had heard

there was no cloud across the winter sky



you sense the shaping know that what went by

though it was sudden was when it occurred

not unexpected even kings must die



at their due time emit their one last sigh

while many gathered hoping for some word

there was no cloud across the winter sky



no final opening of one bright eye

not a hoarse whisper we had long inferred

not unexpected even kings must die



in a bright room with no friend there to cry

a century's tears nor declare absurd

there was no cloud across the winter sky



you have to dance as if you were to fly

a man no more but a returning bird

not unexpected even kings must die

there was no cloud across the winter sky

at istanbul the line is swift
faces are warm the world is here
we have the journey as our gift

all landed safe none cast adrift
no crisis left to engineer
at istanbul the line is swift

we're moved along all hearts must lift
as each direction comes out clear
we have the journey as our gift

no simple one so for our thrift
we've been repaid and very dear
at istanbul the line is swift

but none can say that they've been stiffed
as cost of entry will appear
we have the journey as our gift

though we come far and have to sift
through memories made everywhere
at istanbul the line is swift
we have the journey as our gift

the circle's now completed that is plain
even to those who will not trust their eyes
who weighted down by hope and by surmise

have given little thought to the campaign
and left the door quite open to the spies
the circle's now completed that is plain

for those who come here seeking rapid gain
and always eager to hurt or despise
the slow and gentle baffling them with lies
the circle's now completed that is plain

no echo here just quiet and the bright
lamp of midday that flattens all below
with gentle touch that equals massive blow
and makes us all long for the cool of night
there's not a bird  today seeking the height
the strongest beast is hiding from the glow
this day at least we wish to see the snow
soften the edges of this harshest sight
mind cannot waken to the meanest task
nor is there thought of music for the charge
when distance adds so much to every fear
it magnifies the words that each must ask
making the burdens that were small so large
but yet each basket when we look holds air

on knutsford boulevard the doctor bird
sips nectar from the blossoms in the noise
of passing traffic and the tall absurd
motions of people yet the creature's poise
is magical unaltered by the place
or human action honest of its kind
but still as brutal does not steal its grace
restoring beauty in a time that's blind
to this reality there's one more cast
that memory had woken an older tale
of pain and loss from a forgotten past
where all the goods must come at end to fail
yet truth will flutter on a humming wing
asking the heart in spite of all to sing

at longest last we reach the furthest edge

where wisdom cannot tell us how to choose

between young follows and a few old clues

close to the end there on the final ledge

above deep seas which no one dares to dredge

is where we learn the game's to win or lose

in one short moment when we clip the fuse

open our eyes and honour our true pledge

worlds shape each heart but hearts must form the world

for each of us in turn as we repair

to our last castles on the final hill

dreaming in hope of sleeping dragons curled

in some deep cavern far from the bright air

awaiting the command of our deep will

i wrote the words and sent them on their way
not knowing how each reader understood
just what was meant nor whether any good
would come from what was simple dance and play
of thought and vision now the options sway
between the meadow and the darkling wood
and we are trapped right where the choices could
not be more difficult on the worst day
what's said can be repaired but what is made
is fixed within the world once and for all
to be acknowledged  or to be denied
that is the problem puts us in the shade
leaves us exhausted makes us want to bawl
and in the end will take away our pride

here on the boundary of truth and lie
where ordinary magics have their rule
underneath heaven permanently cool
no one escapes nor is allowed to cry
against the judgment of the steely sky
since every human is at last a fool
while failure is the final mark at school
the arrow that will find each weeping eye
all that we know amounts to waste of air
on these strange days when we desire to feel
the urgent courage of our better days
but what we get is new return of care
another revolution of the wheel
and nothing better coming through the haze

all hearts are filled with horror and with dread
we've hit the boundary of human reach
out here in the republic of the dead

there's no necessity to get ahead
once we have heard the words of the last speech
all hearts are filled with horror and with dread

for this we struggled long to earn our bread
and bowed low as the vile old friars preach
out here in the republic of the dead

where are are equal in the weight of lead
but none will listen as the poor beseech
all hearts are filled with horror and with dread

at every sound that penetrates the head
while silent men walk up and down the beach
out here in the republic of the dead

where none dare speak and all the good are fled
and what we learnt no one could ever teach
all hearts are filled with horror and with dread
out here in the republic of the dead

believe the voices falling down the rift
of fading memory all lost to time
recall the faces touched with soot and grime
in days so clear and calm they seemed to drift
through subtle air and now all is too swift
hardly a moment between every chime
the downslope now but we were on the climb
and had not valued the taste of the gift
so here the choice is made and in the cold
dark of the rainy afternoon each deep
cutting word is truly cruel in its burn
the message is expected we turn old
and each day must bring reasons more to weep
even this day at eve of sunreturn

we take the pummel since we have to ride
no need to fumble there’s a ready flow
though words are warmer life retains its glow
both here and where we  see high mountain’s side
wake in new green our hearts no longer hide
from the assertion that they truly know
what is their will we’ve seen the golden blow
after the panic and we share the pride
no worse disaster that we care to mark
in daily news or nightly tale of care
can come so close or make our souls to smart
but what’s important is the end of dark
erasure of the hard weight of despair
from where it lay upon each normal heart

we navigate by methods good and fair
our science has been tested and found true
for many seasons the hard-working crew
have full and thorough trust in our good care
so do not worry at the changing air
in certainty that we have paid our due
before the mast the storms we have been through
are the best measure of how much we dare
yet each adventure has its own sweet trap
since we dare not refuse to face the test
so must discover just how little sure
we really are of what is on the map
and what we know but must face all with zest
for all that matters is that we endure