John Logan Poems
Three moves in sixth months and I remain
Two homes made two friends.
The third leaves me with myself again.
(We hardly speak.)
Here I am with tame ducks
and my neighbors' boats,
only this electric heat
against the April damp.
I have a friend named Frank--
the only one who ever dares to call
and ask me, "How's your soul?"
I hadn't thought about it for a while,
and was ashamed to say I didn't know.
I have no priest for now.
will forgive me then. Will you
Tame birds and my neighbors' boats.
The ducks honk about the floats . . ...
Where pastoral Tweed, renown'd in song,
With rapid murmur flows;
In Caledonia's classic ground,
The hall of Arthur rose.
A braver Briton never arm'd
To guard his native isle.
A gentler friend did never make
The social circle smile.