A dashing toad in wily grass,
Sunbeaten striking up a deal,
The journey has been hardy far,
But now to dwell in underoots,
Feasting upon the blasted pests,
Which scourge the shallow greens and then,
To rest at every corner of the field.

Cleaning up a room,
To kiss the dust goodbye,
And truly have it swarm your face,
Off dusty wood and papers old,
Now sorted or to sit recycled,
Oh the air is clear again!
The space unpacked of all its grey!

Your hand spans the cosmos,
Saviour into the depths of history,
Leaving freed captives in the waking trail,
What love is this?
That does not relent,
That does not discriminate,
That bears pain as it's crown,
And self sacrifice like a bejewelled sceptre.