Evensong

On still air there jails the sound
Of hollow bells,
Tolling to momentary life,
Eager to exalt the stubborn senses
Numbed in sterile sleep;
Hollow-toned, crushing down
The heavy expectation of the day,
Stunning yet to life, awareness
Of an era's cortege pacing dully by:
Barren bells, spreading fertile sounds.

Let us evaluate.

Here I have leapt with the sails
Before a stinging gale,
And watched flecked silver in the gurgling wake
At night;
Have perched above some bleak deserted stream,
Bared to fear's tumultuous blast,
And forged the cold steel of purpose;
For out of these and not even I
Recall what other hours,
That I have gained.

Therefore, bidding a last farewell
To tranquil eddies and the tailored autobahn,
I have joined column for the next stage.
Streams we ford foam to our joy of will,
For we have rent the veil,
And down the road a chill white beam
Covers the unsure way ahead.

K.J.H.