Susan Greenfield-Baroness Greenfield Poem by Nellie Isabelle Steward Cooper

Passion reason, the sighting eye
The hand that launched to kill
Or perhaps worse, and not recall

Does the arrow remember these
As it flies to mark?

No!

But on more careful thought

Yes!

It cannot forget, its mode of memory
Faultless, structured in being

Complete in action, sure to hit

So tis true with the words we write:
Do follow a distant power primeval

Unconscious from some past unknown
In them some essence, not theirs

Some far bowman sighting, some arm lifted
Some mark sped to drifted ages since

Now all thrumming within:
Their flying perfect, their strike certain

As we travel this enchanting place

Are we not all bowman
And target in this space?