Upon yon hillock stands a warlike spirit,

  He of a day most markedly moderne;

His martial stance as staunch as men can hear it,

  Tomas the Carpenter treads on the cairn.

O, as his ample stride has meanness seen,

Then query not his pride; it too is mean.


A dayman’s pay he draws for all his notions?

  Speak nay, though tort’rous hubris be the claim.

His reservation spans all land and oceans,

  Yet not a yeoman’s shield wouldst bear his name.

Should blessed noonday fall and e’en deliver,

This rider giveth all upon the river.


And if his gallant comp’ny thou decriest,

  Thy tirade on society pursues.

But is that now a mist that thou espiest?

  Now claim it sure as mythic turmoil brews.

Thou catchest phantoms just as souls mysterious

Drift wide as from Augustus to Tiberius.


What profits soulless men who gain the world?

  They rant and roil but know not what the Earth is.

He shudders as disquiet is unfurled.

  No life he saveth ever can be worth his.

Now, all the world’s a stage of life and love.

The breadth thou gaugest vaults the skies above.


This day Tomas the Carpenter wouldst capture

  Thy dream in conjuration souls provide;

Within his bold invasion cometh fracture,

  That space decanted from whence he’s beside.

But well Tomas he lists the effigy

Upon which he subsists. That one is thee.


Forbid! Speak not of mind and its engagement!

  To God or kingdom shall it not be bound.

Where seek thee hope, there cruelly dwells estrangement

  From craft and cauldron, fortune’s change is found.

But though he tells that changes will betide

’Tis change itself that reigns as fortune’s bride.


Fah! Again his comp’ny one excoriates

  As deep thou waxest on society

And grasps a watcher to the war he hates,

  Yet find thy hands clutch impropriety.

Thence, attempt to chain the spectre they shun.

But lo, thou gainest mere expectoration.


This verdant sphere the Lord saw fit to grant us,

  Capacious as the mountains reach the air,

Descending through the brine of fair Atlantis,

 So fathomless that life and love hide there.

He scans the forestscape with moonstruck orbs.

So utterly agape! All, he absorbs.


The Carpenter finds egress through the evening,

  And walks amid the dimming of the days.

At once thou heightenst all that he’s perceiving

  Amidst thy boundless charge that life conveys.

And with a love incensed as brave Sir Tristan’s,

He stands aright against the day’s resistance!


—After Geddy Lee, Neil Peart, Alex Lifeson, and Pye DuBois