Veni Coronaberis*
A Garland for Helen Waddell
The crocus armies from the dead
rise up; the realm of love renews
the battle it was born to lose,
though for a time the snows have fled
and old stones blossom in the south
with sculpted vine and psaltery
and half-effaced adultery
the bird-dung dribbling from its mouth
and abstinence crowns all our care
with martyr-laurels for this day.
Towers and steeples rise away
into the towering gulfs of air.
Geoffrey Hill
* "Vem e serás coroada"
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