Her Ode To The Sward

As she lay upon the sward, considered
Christian word would have you say she did not
Deserve to lie there, not to rot away,
Considered Christian word as upon
The green of pasture unseeing the lay
Of the feet of Jesus which did not pass
Nor play upon the mind parables to
Be of just how benighted could be all
Humanity as she lay upon the sward,

Sunlight dappling in her hair, one wondered
If, just how, much longer, if we cared, it
Would be before some Samaritain clay
Held her Adam body, even as did now
The dirt field of that hod he had sown, nay,
More than sown, sown and reaped and lain, just as
Fallow as God's Truth within his brain who'd
See adjust of field as positively
Realled in his interpretate of The Word,

Thus rendering absurd the beauty he'd
Create, now gone to its fate, smoking day
Descending to nightfall's twilight and an
Overture of truth in darkness the lay
Of which were no delay but more than as
A beginning of Older Testament
As gravity, in truth unrelent, called
To her as she lay, unconsidering, the sward.