Here the dead rise early with the corn;
in breath of sheep sigh out their little lusts,
marry the grass and fall asleep again –
all in a magpie-hop, in the beat of a wing.
mourning maids and long-lost lovers,
men who live righteous lives and die unknown.
Fishers of long-gone shoals, those ancient sailors,
mesmerised by the dead sea’s rattling –
Only stand still and silent. Hear their song.