St Michael's on his mountain in the sea-roads of the north (Don John of Austria is girt and going forth) Where the grey seas glitter and the sharp tides shift And the sea folk labor and the red sails lift. He shakes his lance of iron and claps his wings of stone; The noise is gone through Normandy; the noise is gone alone; The North is full of tangled things and texts and aching eyes And dead is all the innocence of anger and surprise, And Christian killeth Christian in a narrow dusty room, And Christian dreadeth Christ that hath a newer face of doom, And Christian hateth Mary that God kissed in Galilee, But Don John of Austria is riding to the sea. Don John Calling through the blast and the eclipse Crying with the trumpet, with the trumpet of his lips, Trumpet that sayeth ha! Domino Gloria! Don John of Austria Is shouting to the ships.
Han'aker Mill on the other:
Sally is gone that was so kindly. Sally is gone from Han'acker Hill. And the briar grows ever since then so blindly And ever since then the clapper is still, And the sweeps have fallen from Han'acker Mill.
If I could write like that, I'd have to go up into the mountains and live as a hermit, because it would be a crime to waste time doing anything else.
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branchandroot
no subject
Date: 2008-02-12 04:45 pm (UTC)Lepanto on the one hand, with the:
St Michael's on his mountain in the sea-roads of the north
(Don John of Austria is girt and going forth)
Where the grey seas glitter and the sharp tides shift
And the sea folk labor and the red sails lift.
He shakes his lance of iron and claps his wings of stone;
The noise is gone through Normandy; the noise is gone alone;
The North is full of tangled things and texts and aching eyes
And dead is all the innocence of anger and surprise,
And Christian killeth Christian in a narrow dusty room,
And Christian dreadeth Christ that hath a newer face of doom,
And Christian hateth Mary that God kissed in Galilee,
But Don John of Austria is riding to the sea.
Don John Calling through the blast and the eclipse
Crying with the trumpet, with the trumpet of his lips,
Trumpet that sayeth ha!
Domino Gloria!
Don John of Austria
Is shouting to the ships.
Han'aker Mill on the other:
Sally is gone that was so kindly.
Sally is gone from Han'acker Hill.
And the briar grows ever since then so blindly
And ever since then the clapper is still,
And the sweeps have fallen from Han'acker Mill.
If I could write like that, I'd have to go up into the mountains and live as a hermit, because it would be a crime to waste time doing anything else.