Coda By Basil Bunting

A strong song tows
us, long earsick.
Blind, we follow
rain slant, spray flick
to fields we do not know.

Night, float us.
Offshore wind, shout,   
ask the sea
what’s lost, what’s left,   
what horn sunk,
what crown adrift.

Where we are who knows   
of kings who sup   
while day fails? Who,   
swinging his axe   
to fell kings, guesses   
where we go?

Basil Bunting, “Coda” from Complete Poems, edited by Richard Caddel. Reprinted with the permission of Bloodaxe Books Ltd., www.bloodaxebooks.com.

Source: Collected Poems (Bloodaxe Books, 1968)

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