old mythologies - john montague lyrics
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and now, at last, all proud deeds done
mouths dust*stopped, dark they embrace
suitably disposed, as urns, underground
cattle munching soft spring grass
—epicures of shamrock and the four*leaved clover—
hear a whimper of ancient weapons
a whirring of outsize limbs
as a whole aerodrome of heroes turn over
regretting their butcher’s days
this valley cradles their archaic madness
as once, on an impossibly epic morning
it upheld their savage stride
to bagpiped battle marching
wolfhounds, lean as models
at thеir urgent heels
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