| [01:05.353] |
Childhood made a Poet's Lyre |
| [01:12.687] |
Hands embroidered in limbs of dark briar |
| [01:19.707] |
Bent to the wind's plaintive whistling words |
| [01:26.783] |
Scattering whispers in your nettled hood |
| [01:33.908] |
Would they fall to a weathered home |
| [01:40.936] |
With branches of arms for a laden pillow |
| [01:48.065] |
And years wrought of withering laurels |
| [01:55.592] |
Blossoms now on the apple boughs |
| [02:02.516] |
Stars are near to the shaded arbor |
| [02:09.950] |
Once a hand could touch |
| [02:17.178] |
Wherefore the other will search |
| [02:22.016] |
|
| [03:08.264] |
Childhood made a Poet's Lyre |
| [03:15.474] |
Heart enfolded in wings of black bird |
| [03:22.907] |
Could they fly on feathers borne |
| [03:29.985] |
When lips salute the Hazel's Horn |
| [03:37.463] |
Or would they crawl through a weathered home |
| [03:44.097] |
Should lips encumber a mordant moan |
| [03:51.782] |
Bent to the wind's whistling word |
| [03:59.245] |
What cloudy guest at this darkened hearth |
| [04:06.928] |
What cloistered heart to hold the black earth |
| [04:14.761] |
Once a hand could touch |
| [04:22.099] |
Wherefore the other will search |
