This morning take a holiday from unhappiness because It is the greatest day there ever was When he stepped down out of the nuptial arch With the cross in his face and he shall search For ever for the wreath and not even at his death Really regret this day that gave him birth. O history be kind and Time be short to him Where his is anonymous and let him come to no harm From the hammer of the diurnal, or the drum, The sweatbox and the wheel where the dog's dream Turns and is interminable. O be near always You whom from far I shall not the less praise! Let the gentle solstice, like the Fierral Bay Where the Eleven Thousand Virgins keep The fishes quiet in their arms, keep him asleep All his life long in a long summer's day: With the empty hourglass, the four-leafed clover, The rock for the resurrection, and much love. |