 | Carol and Cadence |  |
BIRDS OF PASSAGE.
I.
Birds in flight,
In the last of the light,
To the Western seas and the sunset-strand,
What is't you seek
In the distance bleak?
What think ye to find in the unknown land?
In the last of the light,
To the Western seas and the sunset-strand,
What is't you seek
In the distance bleak?
What think ye to find in the unknown land?
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The world is round;
There is nothing found
The skyline under, that here is not;
And life's the same,
Be it wild or tame,
In the Arctic cold and the Tropics hot.
There is nothing found
The skyline under, that here is not;
And life's the same,
Be it wild or tame,
In the Arctic cold and the Tropics hot.
What need to roam?
If not at home,
Peace is not, the wise say, far or nigh;
There's nothing to find,
The sun behind,
Save the same old earth and the same old sky.
If not at home,
Peace is not, the wise say, far or nigh;
There's nothing to find,
The sun behind,
Save the same old earth and the same old sky.
II. (The Birds' Answer.)
We reck not a straw
Of your sages' law;
The things that you seek are those we shun.
You live in the night
And we in the light;
You follow the darkness, we the sun.
Of your sages' law;
The things that you seek are those we shun.
You live in the night
And we in the light;
You follow the darkness, we the sun.
Your weakling wit
You hug and fit
Your dullard lives to its darkling lore:
But we, to find
The light behind
The dark, make wing for the unknown shore.
You hug and fit
Your dullard lives to its darkling lore:
But we, to find
The light behind
The dark, make wing for the unknown shore.
You cannot see
The things that be,
So busy you are with those that seem:
There's nothing, heigho!
But death can show
Which true, your life, is, or this our dream.
The things that be,
So busy you are with those that seem:
There's nothing, heigho!
But death can show
Which true, your life, is, or this our dream.
| Carol and Cadence | |