Another of the same Shepherd's

Waking from worry, he travelled through the morning,

Where doggerel scampered to the formal rocks,

And, circling greener visions, came on flocks

Of ghosts. who, grazing by an arid warning,

Gave him ‘Good Sorrow’, then returned to scorning

Old memories, while he gathered paradox

In baskets woven from the plaited shocks

Of chance, and chased the black and white suborning.

Noon was still there, waiting by the signpost,

A little bird in his hand, while time of day,

Who had been up since childhood, singing, played.

They walked together, for the rain was lost

Along that road, and praised the lights of May.

And so continued while the waking stayed.