Wednesday, May 10, 2006
...And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows,
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace,
Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of his hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.
(The poem is too long to post the whole thing, but look it up. S'wonderful.)