Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,
          Ease after warre, death after life, does greatly please.
              —Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene 

Jeffers, you flinty sympathist of granite,
poet/homilist, provincial seer
and storm‑bird, let it rest. Your work is finished.
They have no use for grand abstraction here.
 
Though Tor House tower is a faerie eyesore
marring the suburb's Hockneyesque regime,
all will fall. Despair is the worst evil.
You wrote it on the dark side of the beam.