59 The Honesty Boys I run along beside the little wobbly blur Of the moon on the sleek wet sand (whereas in the sky It’s holding motionless, hatchet-sharp) and have an eye On the just-after-sundown ocean’s crinkling stir In the beautiful steel-blue light that suddenly appears, And find myself thinking again about the way Certain poets are always putting on a display Of honesty — they bring up yours, and of course theirs, To your face; sometimes slyly, showing how others are Dishonest — as one of them just lately tried to tell All of us Hardy was. That didn’t turn out well. However, credit for trying.… On with the essay-war With each name mentioned being a piece of disputed terrain, Or outpost in the latest honesty campaign. 115