Canopy, please, say it three times
To walk under the sky high trees,
Continuing bare narrative music
As in bold and bald bard’s sonnet.
Children do not die nor live lives
As if they will, at that time of year
Thou beholdst me as ruined choirs
Where sang erstwhile sweet birds.
Children do not die under canopy
Because it is not sky to die under.
Children are sweet birds they sing
Wearing no transience on bodies.
Canopy ,we say it three times bald,
A bare ruined choir , of birds gone.
We wear stoic’s toga of transience.
Our any time is that time of a year.