Fool (version two)

In my hamlet, I'm the ham,

the doleful dogs know who I am:

the white dogs kipping;

others to the distance skipping;

neither kind goes woof

they please me by being aloof,

they are dog-clouds,

they run and do not whine.

It's us sadness is swallowing,

of where we're going, unknowing;

bless my soul

You, Ancient Shepherd,

with gifts unexplored

of moon and sleep disturbed

with thorns upon your head,

your heavy head, hurt and hurt again,

just like a heart. Amen.