This Used To Be The Bed Of A Vast Ocean

Out on the Old East Road, where errors undermine

The necessary journey, the Careful Reader pauses,

Determined not to let mere necessity define

His purpose, or compromise his independent clauses.

A system of coordinated piles, with trusses

Slung between, once supported meaning and intent

With such clarity and consistency of style that buses

Full of passengers who knew what each other meant

Raced along the causeway against the rising tide

Talking of use and usage and abuse, of that and which,

Of what should be accepted, what had to be denied;

The angry ghosts that poison, the bodies that enrich

Our native tongue. The Careful Reader sniffs out those who died

For an old ladder rotting in a muddy ditch.