Sonnets At Christmas II

Ah,

Christ,

I love you rings to the wild

And I must think a little of the past:

When I was ten I told a stinking

That got a black boy whipped; but now at

The going years, caught in an accurate glow,

Reverse like balls englished upon green baize-Let them return, let the round trumpets

The ancient crackle of the Christ's deep gaze.

Deafened and blind, with senses yet unfound,

Am I, untutored to the

Of knowledge, knowing a nightmare has no sound;

Therefore with idle hands and head I

In late December before the fire's

Punished by crimes of which I would be quit.