Winter Song
BE SURE that the winter will come to the arbor,
Expect that the leaves of the flowers will go
(Less shining than summer’s, oh, leaving their ardor)
Under, and over, and under the snow.
Death is the strict completion of order.
(What we were taught, we know.)
Expect that the leaves of the flowers will go
(Less shining than summer’s, oh, leaving their ardor)
Under, and over, and under the snow.
Death is the strict completion of order.
(What we were taught, we know.)
Summer’s obscure, but winter is open;
Summer’s profuse, but winter is slow
And clear and exact as a wave of the ocean:
Up to that wave we go.
Why do you rise, with your face turned ashen?
What do you still not know?
Summer’s profuse, but winter is slow
And clear and exact as a wave of the ocean:
Up to that wave we go.
Why do you rise, with your face turned ashen?
What do you still not know?