sky

The buzzards wheel slowly
In wide circles, in a sky
Faintly hazed as from dust from the road.
And a wind sweeps through the pasture where I lie
Beating the grass into long waves.
My kite is above the wind,
Though now and then it wobbles,
Like a man shaking his shoulders;
And the tail streams out momentarily,
Then sinks to rest.
And the buzzards wheel and wheel,
Sweeping the zenith with wide circles
Above my kite. And the hills sleep.
And a farm house, white as snow,
Peeps from green trees -- far away.

"Put up the sword!" The voice of Christ once more
Speaks, in the pauses of the cannon's roar,
O'er fields of corn by fiery sickles reaped
And left dry ashes; over trenches heaped
With nameless dead; o'er cities starving slow
Under a rain of fire; through wards of woe
Down which a groaning diapason runs
From tortured brothers, husbands, lovers, sons
Of desolate women in their far-off homes
Waiting to hear the step that never comes!
O men and brothers! let that voice be heard.

The world around us doesn't wait for us to make a mark;
For waiting is so futile when we have so little spark.
So many do the waiting as they watch the world go by;
Too many sit and wonder how the mountains meet the sky.

It's those who climb the mountain, even those who leave the ground,
Who find that, in so doing, simple answers may be found.
The ones who show their fellow man the way good things are done,
May not make easy money, but they're good at having fun.

Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom --
A field where a thousand corpses lie.

Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.

Believe me, together
The bright gods come ever,
Still as of old;
Scarce see I Bacchus, the giver of joy,
Than comes up fair Eros, the laugh-loving boy,
And Phoebus, the stately, behold!

They come near and nearer,
The heavenly ones all--
The gods with their presence
Fill earth as their hall!

Say, how shall I welcome,
Human and earthborn,
Sons of the sky?

"Aqui esta encerrada el alma licenciado Pedro Garcias."

Dear books! and each the living soul,
   Our hearts aver, of men unseen,
Whose power to strengthen, charm, control,
   Surmounts all earth's green miles between.

For us at least the artists show
   Apart from fret of work-day jars:
We know them but as friends may know,
   Or they are known beyond the stars.

Their mirth, their grief, their soul's desire,
   When twilight murmuring of streams,
Or skies far touched by sunset fire,

I. (Bread and Music)

Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Now that I am without you, all is desolate;
All that was once so beautiful is dead.

Your hands once touched this table and this silver,
And I have seen your fingers hold this glass.
These things do not remember you, belovèd,
And yet your touch upon them will not pass.

For it was in my heart you moved among them,
And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes;

Horace, Odes, IV, 7

The snows are fled away, leaves on the shaws
And grasses in the mead renew their birth,
The river to the river-bed withdraws,
And altered is the fashion of the earth.

The Nymphs and Graces three put off their fear
And unapparelled in the woodland play.
The swift hour and the brief prime of the year
Say to the soul, Thou wast not born for aye.

Thaw follows frost; hard on the heel of spring
Treads summer sure to die, for hard on hers
Comes autumn with his apples scattering;

Det kimer nu til julefest
det kimer for den høje gæst
som steg til lave hytter ned
med nytårsgaver: fryd og fred!

O, kommer med til Davids by,
hvor engle sjunge under sky;
o, ganger med på marken ud,
hvor hyrder høre nyt fra Gud!

Og lad os gå med stille sind
som hyrderne til barnet ind,
med glædestårer takke Gud
for miskundhed og nådebud!

O Jesus, verden vid og lang
til vugge var dig dog for trang
for ringe, om med guld tilredt
og perlestukken, silkebredt.

Said Seeker of the skies to me:
"Behold yon starry host ashine!
When Heaven's harmony you see
How can you doubt control divine,
Law, order and design?"
II
"Nay, Sire," said I, "I do not doubt
The spheres in cosmic pattern spin;
But what I try to puzzle out
Is that--if Law and Order win
Where does mere man come in?
III
"If to the millionth of a hair
Cause and Effect are welded true,
Then there's no leeway anywhere,
And all we do we have to do,