Now it’s high watermark and floodtide in the heart and time to go. The sea-nymphs in the spray will be the chorus now. What’s left to say? Suspect too much sweet-talk but never close your mind. It was a fortunate wind that blew me here. I leave half-ready to believe that a crippled trust might walk and the half-true rhyme is love.

Irish readers, British readers, American readers: is it odd that I haven't a clue about how differently they react? Or better say, I cannot find the words to describe my hunch about them.

I suppose I'm saying that defiance is actually part of the lyric job

Whether it be a matter of personal relations within a marriage or political initiatives within a peace process, there is no sure-fire do-it-yourself kit.

Even if the hopes you started out with are dashed, hope has to be maintained.

In fact, in lyric poetry, truthfulness becomes recognizable as a ring of truth within the medium itself.

Don't be surprised if I demur, for, be advised my passport's green.