He Shakes the Dead
For Alys
He shakes the dead from His
feet like dust
Not the God of death but
life
His foot prints are the waves
in stone
The many troughs of waves
at sea
And yet with precious tenderness
He gives the song birds eggs
of jade
Long shadows His, and ivory
light
The ivory bloom of falling
stars
He is the terror of close
death
The blessing of familiar
warmth
He is too large for me to
see
And yet a grain around which
forms
A droplet and a planet-fruit
Around a glowing pit of stone
