#AmericanWriters
Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?
In a cave born (Mary said) In a cave is My Son buried
Lo, how they weave– the imperturba… Those threads that are my destiny: Steadily at the eternal task they’… Industrious . . . indifferent . .… Weave, Fates! And what your spins…
Sun and wind and beat of sea, Great lands stretching endlessly’… Where be bonds to bind the free? All the world was made for me!
But me They cannot touch, Old age and death. .the strange And ignominious end of old Dead folk!
The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!
You nor I nor nobody knows Where our daily-taken breath Vanisheth and vanisheth: Where our lost breath’s flying goe… You nor I nor nobody knows.
(1) The rose new-opening saith, And the dew of the morning saith, (Fallen leaves and vanished dew) Remember death.
Reap, reap the grain and gather The sweet grapes from the vine; Our Lord’s mother is weeping, She hath nor bread nor wine; She is weeping. The Queen of Hea…
Meet thou the event And terrible happening of Thine end: for thou art come Upon the remote, cold place Of ultimate dissolution and
As it Were tissue of silver I’ll wear, O Fate, thy grey, And go mistily radiant, clad Like the moon.
‘WHY do You thus devise Evil against her?’ ‘For that She is beautiful, delicate; Therefore.’
Behold her, Running through the waves Eager to reach the land; The water laps her, Sun and wind are on her,
So may you sleep alway, My baby, my dear son: Amen, Amen, Amen. My baby, my dear son.
Oh me, Was there a time When Paradise knew Eve In this sweet guise, so placid and