"A tale that the poet Ruckert told
To German children, in days of old;
Disguised in a random, rollicking rhyme
Like a merry mummer of ancient time,
And sent, in its English dress, to please
The little folk of the Christmas trees."
The naked earth is warm with spring,
And with green grass and bursting trees
Leans to the sun's gaze glorying,
And quivers in the sunny breeze;
And life is colour and warmth and light,
And a striving evermore for these;
And he is dead who will not fight;
And who dies fighting has increase.
Clouds gather, treetops toss and sway;
But pour us wine, an old one!
That we may turn this dreary day
To golden; yes, to golden!
Part V
I know not whether laws be right,
Or whether laws be wrong;
All that we know who lie in gaol
Is that the wall is strong;
And that each day is like a year,
A year whose days are long.
Part IV There is no chapel on the day....On which they hang a man:The Chaplain's heart is far too sick,....Or his face is far too wan,Or there is that written in his eyes....Which none should look upon. So they kept us close till nigh on noon,....And then they rang the bell,And the Warders with their […]
Part III In Debtors' Yard the stones are hard,And the dripping wall is high,So it was there he took the airBeneath the leaden sky,And by each side a Warder walked,For fear the man might die. Or else he sat with those who watchedHis anguish night and day;Who watched him when he rose to weep,And when […]