Martin Robertson

Now and Then


I could not in my orchard sleep that day

knowing much was not well

between my queen and me.

I thought of many things (most if not all

true) done or left undone to set us wrong.

The truths we think are not the home truths though.

A bird sang from a bough

and drowsing I began

to lose my thoughts, and then

“You fool” fluted “you fool” the liquid song

“you fool, you had the love

of her whose gift, above

all her warm gifts, is loving.

You fool, how could you lose

her love, unless because,

you fool, you fool, of having

simply become, you fool,

you fool, unlovable?

Fool, fool, fool, fool.”