To Arthur
Hit mus be now de Kingdom
And de year of Jubilo . . .
Tail-spinning from the shelves of
See how it dips and tacks and
To cast a beam in the mind's eye:
Who will count the gains and the
On the Day of Jubilo?
Public accountant with double
Enter in red war's final
In the black column the pacing sentry,
Old women picking the hogs'
For the Day of
Lean to the crowded air and hear,
Eavesdropper, how it goes
Your own deaf and roaring ear:
Boys caress the machines they
On the Day of
After the dry and sticking
After our
Who will inflate the poet's
Gone flat of this
Till the Day of Jubilo?
Scholar, no dog will have your
For all your capital's run out,
Wry baby in wet disarray-Scholar, prepare your meagre
For the Day of
Under the slip and slide of
Think, at the end you'll never
Trapped in a fox-hole of
Nor snip nor glide of
After the Day of
All our jubilant eyes are raised,
Jubilo.
Over the
On the great Day pure and dazed,
Empty of heart the empty
Of the Day of
Then for the Day of
The patient bares his arm at
To suck the blood's transfusing
And then when all the blood is gone(For the Day of Jubilo)Salt serum stays his
Sly tide threading the ribs of sand,
Till his lost being dries, and
For that unspeakable salt
Beyond the Day of Jubilo.
