Copyright © Diane L. Schirf

He lives in a greenwood
that rolls down to the sea.
He sleeps under an oak
and dines under the elms.

He talks to animals
and has learned all their ways.
He is loved by the poor
whom he serves and protects.

He eats deer meat by day
and drinks warm ale by night.
He makes merry with maids
and sports too with his men.

His bow is known here, there
throughout the countryside
as is the bounty on
his handsome, golden head.

His life is goodly and rich
despite the risk of death.
It is what he chooses.
He would have no other.

And while he feasts and drinks,
laughing and making him merry,
is it his fault alone
he nevers hears the gunshot?

The stray shot that kills him
and the greenwood and sea,
the men, the maids, the ale,
leaving only 47th Street.

1998