Black and haloed, my spiller of gold,
by Giles Watson
Stark and hallowed as a gilded ghost,
Raptured rhymer of the honeyed throat,
Pert proclaimer of embodied thought,
Spell me my tidings, cast my weird,
Illumine my way with a birdlike word
Sprung from the core of the yew's red root
Up through stone and your splayed foot,
In through your gizzard, gritted and green,
Out through your bill, yellower than grain,
Into the air, emblazoned with sun.
Sing and I live; fly, I'm undone.