Part 34 (1/2)

Moth and blossom, blade and bee, Worlds must go as well as we, In the long procession joining Mount and star and sea.

Toward the shadowy brink we climb Where the round year rolls sublime, Rolls, and drops, and falls forever In the vast of time.

Like a plummet plunging deep Past the utmost reach of sleep, Till remembrance has no longer Care to laugh or weep.

I know not why. [Morris Rosenfeld]

I lift mine eyes against the sky, The clouds are weeping, so am I; I lift mine eyes again on high, The sun is smiling, so am I.

Why do I smile? Why do I weep?

I do not know; it lies too deep.

I hear the winds of autumn sigh, They break my heart, they make me cry; I hear the birds of lovely spring, My hopes revive, I help them sing.

Why do I sing? Why do I cry?

It lies so deep, I know not why.

Winter Sleep. [Edith M. Thomas]

I know it must be winter (though I sleep) -- I know it must be winter, for I dream I dip my bare feet in the running stream, And flowers are many, and the gra.s.s grows deep.

I know I must be old (how age deceives!) I know I must be old, for, all unseen, My heart grows young, as autumn fields grow green, When late rains patter on the falling sheaves.

I know I must be tired (and tired souls err) -- I know I must be tired, for all my soul To deeds of daring beats a glad, faint roll, As storms the riven pine to music stir.

I know I must be dying (Death draws near) -- I know I must be dying, for I crave Life -- life, strong life, and think not of the grave, And turf-bound silence, in the frosty year.

Tryste Noel. [Louise Imogen Guiney]

The Ox he openeth wide the Doore, And from the Snowe he calls her inne, And he hath seen her Smile therefor, Our Ladye without Sinne.

Now soon from Sleep A Starre shall leap, And soone arrive both King and Hinde: ~Amen, Amen:~ But O, the Place co'd I but finde!

The Ox hath hush'd his voyce and bent Trewe eyes of Pitty ore the Mow, And on his lovelie Neck, forspent, The Blessed layes her Browe.

Around her feet Full Warme and Sweete His bowerie Breath doth meeklie dwell: ~Amen, Amen:~ But sore am I with Vaine Travel!

The Ox is host in Judah stall And Host of more than onelie one.