On the mountain I have quite a good sense of direction
and on the dark bog too, going out for the dawn flighting.
But it does not answer in towns
and there where the grosvenors reared up their gallows
for the high justice rather than the low
which at the same time disappointed self-murdered lovers
were buried at the crossroads with a sharpened stake
ensuring that their hearts were really broken
there I say where the streets curve strangely
bend. change their names.
You can no more define love than you can define a feel of youth