 | Carol and Cadence |  |
THE CROW.
The crow
Goes, calling, to and fro,
In that harsh voice
Of his, whose cadence sad
Is not, nor is it glad,
As if he neither knew to sorrow or rejoice.
Goes, calling, to and fro,
In that harsh voice
Of his, whose cadence sad
Is not, nor is it glad,
As if he neither knew to sorrow or rejoice.
Caw! Caw!
He voices Nature's law
Of unconcern
For what we mortals feel,
Joy, sorrow, woe or weal,
So but the mills of Life, as she will have them, turn.
He voices Nature's law
Of unconcern
For what we mortals feel,
Joy, sorrow, woe or weal,
So but the mills of Life, as she will have them, turn.
What end,
I know not, crow my friend,
For Nature's sake
It serveth us to live,
Since she hath nought to give
But life and such scant pains to sweeten it doth take.
I know not, crow my friend,
For Nature's sake
It serveth us to live,
Since she hath nought to give
But life and such scant pains to sweeten it doth take.
60
What worth
To us is death or birth,
There's none doth know.
Why not, then, leave the strife
To hold death off from life?
And as for Nature's ends, why let the hussy go
To us is death or birth,
There's none doth know.
Why not, then, leave the strife
To hold death off from life?
And as for Nature's ends, why let the hussy go
| Carol and Cadence | |