Four Songs

Anyone on the road below can see it now
 . . . . . . . . . .

— The rest of this text is not
currently in the database but will be
added as soon as we obtain it. —

The wind that comes, the wind that goes,
Never tells me what it knows.
The wind is witness of all things
Of water's birth, of Saturn's rings,
Of sin's undoing, of love's laws,
And revolutions without cause
But still my face is famine lean;
The wind that sees cannot be seen.
If I could turn a sudden head, 
sidewise, perhaps, as the wind sped
And its dark edges rippled by, 
I might grow wise enough to die.
But here I stand and only know:
Wind come, wind go.

Down dip the branches,
The long leafy branches,
Down dip the branches
To bring old robin in.

Underneath the haytops,
The warm windy haytops,
Underneath the haytops
The mice are creeping home.

Soon it will be sunset,
Red and yellow sunset,
Soon it will be sunset,
With everything indoors.

Apples for supper,
Sing, sing for supper.
After, after supper,
Sing awhile in bed.

Mouse in the meadow,
The green sleepy meadow,
Mouse in the meadow,
Fold your little paws.

Robin in the branches,
The dark sleepy branches,
Old robin in the branches,
Shut, shut, shut your eyes.

Will he come back, O will he, will he
 . . . . . . . . . .

— The rest of this text is not
currently in the database but will be
added as soon as we obtain it. —