On A Walk Near Hampton Court

The air is still, the trees are still,
And all around the sweet soaked ground
Is still, is passing still.
And all around on plant and hedge
Still drops of rain like brilliants plain
Make royal courts of common veg
And crystal clear, like diamonds dear,
In chains on brusselsprouts and spuds
Make art of even common mud.

Where jewels deck the modest spud
And stand all passive still,
And stand all passive still.
And stand attending passing still
Like courtiers on the royal will
Like Raleigh clad in wondrous tights
Or bloomered virgins bearing lights
Upon the cycle’s timeless way
In the forest green and pregnant day.

And passing still attendant still
As waiting for the hunting king
Soaked to his waist by bracken green
He bears his birds to kitchen wing
With jaunty slap at serving wench,
Sends page a-skating long the bench
All swimming in the rich, red wine.

And rich ripe fruits bear brambles down,
Staining the skin the richest brown
Till all the waters of sacred Nile
Are powerless as boudoir file
To cleanse the torn and heated flesh.
The king on the bed lays panting down,
A Tudor bed of rose and crown,
And barmaids bearing bun and garter
And porters for their porter barter
With oaths and froth on their hot, rich drink
Staining their bellies a rich, red pink.