Blake's Law
Oh alien, majestic, exiled lord
who fettered thee with what cruel
cord
and bore thee hence at foul expense
your wild life cradled by a pale
fence?
To what wide yawn, and ambling
stride
they limit now your ageing pride
and while immortal hands might
frame,
it was mere mortals called thee
'game'.
And what shoulder, and what art
have wrenched from home your aching
heart
and with what twists, what longing
beat
echoes the concrete at your pacing
feet.
What distant wilds, remembered
skies
what ancient genes o'erlaid by
bleak high rise
what starving deeps reflect in
golden eyes
what shrivelled power remains
in idle thighs.
What was the hammer, what the forge,
that on a feline virus made thee
gorge
and brought to mince meat mighty
jaws,
and what vile symmetry of jungle
laws
and when the stars look down in
tears,
and men on men cast down sharp
spears
oh do they smile, their work to
see,
do those your fortune made, still
shout with glee?
Oh alien, majestic, exiled lord,
who fetters thee with this foul
chord
and what mere mortal hand and
eye
dare relish your wild mystery?
POEMS
FOR FORT WORTH