Clarion

To Horus

Setting off upon the romance of denial,
the sun an ally, the rain just as much so;
and June to come to croon and smooth,
to sing with clarion tongue that cleaves the heart,
and the high lark tongue that pours out trill
upon those wide salt-meadows pink with thrift;

for is not life itself this deep-breathed drug
to live (till book of dead is all our study),
get our fix of sun-up, hair of the dog
that howled us down to sleep it off through dark -

the jackal gives the ankh up to the hawk
who flies its gold into the heart of light, this
lengthening relay of days that breast
midsummer
                        across the sky to sail again
to sail again.