THE PARISH

There was part of the parish that few knew.
They lived in houses on the main road
To God, as they thought, managing primly
The day�fs dirt, bottling talk
Of birth and marriage in cold eyes;
Nothing to tell in their spick rooms�f
Discipline how with its old violence
Grass raged under the floor.

But you knew it, farmer; your hand
Had felt its power, if not your heart
Its loveliness. Somewhere among
Its green aisles you had watched like me
The sharp tooth tearing its prey,
While a bird sang from a tall tree.