Song IV

by Jonathan Dove From Out of Winter (2003)

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Song IV
English source: Robert Tear

From that moment the vicar declined.
He’d seen a vision; it wasn’t for him.
His turkey-cock trot became a stoop,
He was no longer for the heavenly coop.
Those angels, how they sang, but not for him,
Crooning ‘Ephraim, Ephraim’, again and again
In organum, plainsong, polyphonous quatrains,
‘Ephraim, Ephraim, Ephraim!’
But not for him, but not for him.
He’d never had a talent for God, and they knew,
Nor for the spirit nor kindness, and they knew.
For LOVE, no idea above the celluloid collar.
In his soul there was nothing but choler, and they knew.
He thought frost was frost and dusk was dusk
No idea of the numinous, the Great God in the dust.
When he died, they buried his husk.
No cherubim nor seraphim turned up for the task.

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