Almost Half in Love
The snow on the field in the moonlight
was sparkling like pure diamond; it was so bright
that our eyes could hardly tell that it was midnight,
and I was almost half in love.
Your hand was on my arm; it felt so nice
that I wouldn't have removed it for the world's price.
And your eyes in light of moon had me so enticed
that I was almost half in love.
The memory of that night in mind replays,
now mingled with the ones in which we parted ways;
but who could ever lose the lessons of those days
when we were almost half in love?
On Milky Way in holy skies
now walk the souls that lived and died;
it bears them to the earth below,
the starlit mountains crowned with snow.
Now Christ has sent the winds of peace!
He bade the war and violence cease;
he brings to morning living rain
and brings the bison to the plain.
He bears the dead to earth below,
from evening stars to mountain snow.
But feel the darkness in the land!
Such venom in the heart of man!
How will the serpent treat the dove
who bears abroad these songs of love?
The prophet dances, agents lie,
in battlefields the people die
with bullets in their hearts and hands,
their blood poured out to wet the lands:
from mountains crowned with shining snow
their spirits flee this earth below.
A prophet once was crucified
and on the tree he bled and died
as jeers beneath the bloody cross
were mocking him for pain and loss.
He was the Christ; the Roman lance
had pierced him for his spirit dance.
There was a people, proud and tall,
with sun-like mien and worthy all;
for dancing in the winter snow
to bring the spirits here below
they fell beneath the flaming guns,
both score by score and one by one.
What thing may live may also die.
What heart may laugh may also cry.
But those who die may also rise
beneath the starlight in the skies
and hunt and dance and play the games
to which their fathers gave the names.
Thus Christ upon a path of light
will come again some starlit night
to bring the dead to earth below
for spirit dances in the snow.
In Luthany the Shadows Fall
In Luthany the shadows fall
on ruins of deserted halls
that, great of beam, still rise on high,
that, strong of stone, yet stand and wait.
The earth may fade, the sun may die,
but Luthany will stand and wait.
In Luthany the birds yet trill
with song of lark and whippoorwill;
there nightingales remember days
as mockingbirds recall the years
when merchants traversed well-trod ways;
but only birds recall those years.
Yet someday soon will woods awake,
the gods undie and hearts unbreak;
and then the dreaming souls will rise
to wake the sleeping land with dance.
When lives again the thing that dies,
then you and I once more will dance.