Jean Et Jeanne Poem by Tom Billsborough

You wish to know the name
Of this low ruined house.
It is called John and Joan
In some other land.

When high winds pass
Its doorstep where nothing
Sings or appears.

It is John and Joan,
And from their grey faces
The day's plaster falls.
Again I see the window pane
Of ancient summers.
Do you remember them?
Far off the most shining,
The arch daughter of shadows.

Today, this evening,
We shall light a fire
In the great hall.
Then we shall depart
And let it live for the dead.