Found in the cold-turn soil:
Just a sod-clamped half of nothing
Forged, used, cast away –
Misplaced perhaps – lost these
Five hundred years and more …
Then brought sudden to light again.
“Don’t foul your ears
With the bad they say,
Don’t pass on the vitriol;
For down the lines of
Will plumb the several realities.
Be better if you don’t swallow the
Lies they offer, so glibly, today.”