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the songs
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The Songs The song of the world as it seems to be now Is the song of an apple that fruits on the bough The song of the world as it seems to be good Is the song of an apple that fruits in the wood
For the flower is the firstborn the branch bears withal And the apple comes after and fruits in the fall The flower is the firstborn, whitewashing the bough As white as the winter and cuts like the plough
And what shall I sing if the world should go cold And my bonny green apple go down to the mould? And what shall I sing if the world should be lost And my bonny green apple go down to the frost?
And it’s oh for my apple that I love the best My bonny green apple that grew in the West And it’s oh for my apple that’s sharp as the thorn My bonny green apple that rose with the dawn
The Song of the Fool
The fool went down to the river at the break of the very first day The bright fish he saw in the water like swords in the river at play It was not in the nature of fishes to give him a thought or a look But the worm of the need that was in him was a twist of the bait on the hook And the worm she came down in the water as if she came down from the sky The innocent fishes fed on her and that was the very first lie With the twist of the hook that was in them they went to the fire and the net And the innocent fool he fed on them and he’s never been free of them yet
And it’s I’ll be a fool in the morning and it’s I’ll be a fool in my way For the fool was the shepherd of sunrise the fool was the father of day So here’s to the fool in his folly,
here’s to the fool in his pride when reason has lain down and died
The next of the fools followed after all armoured in blessings and bronze The next of the fools followed after with ships and with powder and guns When the last of the fools goes fishing there’ll be no lack of fools on the sea The lack of all fish will come after for the bait of the hook has caught me The middle yard ever meanders, the world of my wandering eyes Like the first of the fools in the morning twisting the first of the lies Who am I then to refuse it, I as a child of desire With the bait of the hook that is in me I’ll go to the net and the fire
And it’s I’ll be a fool in the morning and it’s I’ll be a fool in my way For the fool was the shepherd of sunrise the fool was the father of day Here’s to the fool in his glory, here’s to the fool in his shame Though wisdom she reckons her winnings the fool writes the rules of the game
The Song of the Morning
The night it is dark and the dark it is ended At morning I cry what at morning I may The sun it may rise on bloodshed and slaughter But such is the price of peace in the day
The night it is dark and the dark it is ended At morning I cry what at morning is true The day may go down on sorrow and weeping What’s that to the morning, when all things are new?
In the heart of a child, a stone heart is ringing On the lips of the dead is whispered a song At the birth of the sun, at the bright hope of morning Is its death in the West, when all hope is gone
A dark wave breaks in every cold moment And silence it roars in every ear And all that’s begun will be crushed in the stillness And all that’s known love, will fall into fear
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