The Ram's Horn - by John Hewitt

[jake]

Reading poetry is an excellent pursuit...it calms the soul and
refreshes the spirit -- and makes you both reflect and think. Most
often lately, when I am empty and barren and cannot express myself, I
find a real "artist" who does it soooo much better than I could ever
begin to do....and for the reading of it alone, I've found I like the
Irish poets best. Here's another. You may find his words speak to
both sides of the Atlantic.

THE RAM's HORN - John Hewitt, Ireland, b. 1907

I have turned to the landscape because men disappoint me:
the trunk of a tree is proud; when the woodmen fell it,
it still has a contained Ionic solemnity:
it is a rounded event without the need to tell it.

I have never been compelled to turn away from the dawn
because it carries treason behind its wakened face:
even the horned ram, glowering over the bog-hole,
thought symbol of evil, will step through the blown grass with grace.

Animal, plant or insect, stone or water,
are, every minute, themselves; they behave by law.
I am not required to discover motives for them,
or strip my heart to forgive the rat in the straw.

I live my best in the landscape, being at ease there;
the only trouble I find I have brought in my hand.
See, I let it fall with rustle of stems in the nettles,
and never for a moment suppose that they understand.

--jake