Reap, reap the grain and gather The sweet grapes from the vine; Our Lord’s mother is weeping, She hath nor bread nor wine; She is weeping. The Queen of Hea…

Heard ye the maidens Went through the meadows, Early, O, early, While yet the dew was Wet on the grass?

Burdock, Blue aconite, And thistle and thorn. .of these Singing I wreathe my pretty wreat… O’death.

No guile? Nay, but so strangely He moves among us. . Not this Man but Barabbas! Release to us Barabbas!

Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?

I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.

Fugitive, wistful, Pausing at edge of her going, Autumn, the maiden, turns, Leans to the earth with ineffable Gesture. Ah, more than

And the centurion who stood by sai… Truly this was a son of God. Not long ago but everywhere I go There is a hill and a black windy… Portent of hill, sky, day’s eclips…

A flickering light near spent Her pale hand bore. Have you seen Angelique? Will she know the place Dead feet must find,

Musicians O Musicians: Heartseas… Heartsease: an you will have me li… Light wind in the small green leav… Play, oh play, my sad heart ease; Birds, shake from your wilding thr…

More dim than wining moon Thy face, mort faint Than is the falling wind Thy voice, yet do Thine eyes most strangely glow,

Grey gaolers are my griefs That will not let me free; The bitterness of tears Is warder unto me. I may not leap or run;

The sun is warm today, O Romulus, and on Thine older Palentine the birds Still sing.

Have yet forgot, sweet birds, How near the heaven’s lie? Drooping, sick-pinion’d, oh Have yet forgot the sky? The air that once I knew

Sun and wind and beat of sea, Great lands stretching endlessly’€… Where be bonds to bind the free? All the world was made for me!