Be David!
Bide your time in the fields.
Before now, harp-song
has exorcised more than ghosts
troubling a king.
Practice on sheep!
From that slow plod,
that huddle of wool,
startle again
into bound of praise
the invincible lamb.
Stay light! Be stripped
to sinew and skill.
Reject rank. And—
as you prize your true estate—
have no truck
with another's dread:
even what comes
(helmet of brass and coat of mail)
as a royal grant.
Then— in that hour when armies break,
with one smooth stone
shaped to perform
the impossible task
run, boldest of all,
to act.
