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Dawn has flashed up the startled skies,
Night has gone out beneath the hill Many sweet times; before our eyes Dawn makes and unmakes about us still The magic that we call the rose. The gentle history of the rain Has been unfolded, traced and lost By the sharp finger-tips of frost; Birds in the hawthorn build again; The hare makes soft her secret house; The wind at tourney comes and goes, Spurring the green, unharnessed boughs; The moon has waxed fierce and waned dim: He knew the beauty of all those Last year, and who remembers him? Love sometimes walks the waters still, Laughter throws back her radiant head; Utterly beauty is not gone, And wonder is not wholly dead. The starry, mortal world rolls on; Between sweet sounds and silences, With new, strange wines her beakers brim: He lost his heritage with these Last year, and who remembers him? None remember him: he lies In earth of some strange-sounding place, Nameless beneath the nameless skies, The wind his only chant, the rain The only tears upon his face; Far and forgotten utterly By living man. Yet such as he Have made it possible and sure For other lives to have, to be; For men to sleep content, secure. Lip touches lip and eyes meet eyes Because his heart beats not again: His rotting, fruitless body lies That sons may grow from other men. He gave, as Christ, the life he hadÑ The only life desired or known; The great, sad sacrifice was made For strangers; this forgotten dead Went out into the night alone. There was his body broken for you, There was his blood divinely shed That in the earth lie lost and dim. Eat, drink, and often as you do, For whom he died, remember him. Unsatisfied? Search for more:Other Cool Sites:Hot Arts & Stage NewsLyrics Catalogue Sound Tracks Guide Guide to Serials and Shows English Subtitles For DivX Movies Hundreds of Cooking Recipes Over 5000 Cocktails Recipes Cool Online Encyclopedia Cellulars Descriptions and Reviews Algorithms Dictionary Funny Jokes and Anecdotes. Usenet Newsgroups Reader |