Though I strive to use the one,
It will make no melody at my will,
But is dead in my mouth.
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I was in the darkness;
Nor the wishes of my heart.Then suddenly there was a great light —‘Let me into the darkness again.’
Once, I knew a fine song,
It was all of birds,And I held them in a basket;When I opened the wicket,Heavens! They all flew away.I cried, ‘Come back, little thoughts!’But they only laughed.They flew onUntil they were as sandThrown between me and the sky.
I stood upon a high place,
Running, leaping,and carousing in sin.One looked up, grinning,And said, ‘Comrade! Brother!’
‘It was wrong to do this,’ said the angel.
Holding malice like a puppy,Waging war like a lambkin.’‘Not so,’ quoth the manWho had no fear of spirits;‘It is only wrong for angelsWho can live like the flowers,Holding malice like the puppies,Waging war like the lambkins.’
Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground.
Do you hope to see itIn one of your withered days?With your old eyesDo you hope to seeThe triumphal march of Justice?Do not wait, friend!Take your white beardAnd your old eyesTo more tender lands.
Two or three angels
They saw a fat church.Little black streams of peopleCame and went in continually.And the angels were puzzledTo know why the people went thus,And why they stayed so long within.