Ring Out, Wild Bells (from In Memoriam)
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,The flying cloud, the frosty light:The year is dying in the night;Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.Ring out the old, ring
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,The flying cloud, the frosty light:The year is dying in the night;Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.Ring out the old, ring
For Janet How can it be that I feel youngernow, with you, than I did in grey youth? Grimlypacing the cage of my lonely hungerfor love, I tested the bars
Many people are familiar with W.H. Auden’s great poem, “September 1, 1939”: I sit in one of the divesOn Fifty-second StreetUncertain and afraidAs the clever hopes expireOf a low dishonest
Most glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day,Didst make Thy triumph over death and sin;And, having harrowd hell, didst bring awayCaptivity thence captive, us to win:This joyous day, deare
1Done is a battell on the dragon blak,Our campioun Chryst confoundit hes his force,The yettis of hell ar brokin with a crak,The signe trivmphall rasit is of the croce.The diuillis
Death, be not proud, though some have called theeMighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrowDie not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou
Make no mistake: if he rose at allIt was as His body;If the cell’s dissolution did not reverse, the molecule reknit,The amino acids rekindle,The Church will fall. It was not
Am I a stone, and not a sheep,That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross,To number drop by drop Thy blood’s slow loss,And yet not weep? Not so those
Is this a holy thing to see, In a rich and fruitful land,Babes reducd to misery,Fed with cold and usurous hand? Is that trembling cry a song?Can it be a song
When fishes flew and forests walkedAnd figs grew upon thorn,Some moment when the moon was bloodThen surely I was born; With monstrous head and sickening cryAnd ears like errant wings,The
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