Marston Moor
Up among clouds I stand,
"God's Englishman" in hand,
Scanning, as Cromwell scanned,
Rupert's position;
Trying to make this calm
Tractor and scarecrow farm
Ring with the real alarm
Of that decision.
It's sixteen forty-four.
Those are the trees he saw
Rupert dismount before,
Thinking of supper…
That was the time he chose:
Soon as the gold lid closed,
Night's fiery round-head rose,
Beat gold to copper.
There, then, is Marston Moor….
That is the scene they saw…
Who can imagine war
Now all's imagine war
Now rainbow-shifting hordes,
No thundercloud of swords-
Only this clump of words,
And the dark crows' call.
Crows do not know the dated,
WAR! WAR! Their voices grate,
Crow-scarers detonate,
Crows do not hear,
Scoffing at ghosts who've cried,
Crows suck the pesticide
From each young ear.
Perched on the pylons, their
Skeletons charge the air,
Field-signs that shout, "Beware
This shallow idyll-
Here in a quiet field
Men of
...
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