Sonnet. September 1922

Fierce indignation is best understood by those Who have time or no fear, or a hope in its real good One loses it with a filed soul or in sentimental mood Anger is gone with sunset, or flows as flows The water in easy mill-runs; the earth that ploughs Forgets protestation in its turning, the rood Prepares, considers, fulfils, and the poppy's blood Makes old the old changing of the headlands brows. But the toad under the harrow toadiness Is known to forget, and even the butterfly Has doubts of wisdom when that clanking thing goes by And's not distressed. A twisted thing keeps still That thing easier twisted than a grocers bill And No history of November keeps the guy.