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Christmas Tide
Bring me at this time of year,
this time of loning wind,
of silver snow and cold
and early dusk,
a music wild and dangerous,
a music that the heavens cannot hold.
Bring me the chorales the angels sang
at Christmas tide,
the gloried song that burnished all the stars
and kept the closing dark at bay.
Bring me their cheer,
their bright enkindling,
yes, pine, and fire, too.
For I, a thing made up of Eros and of tumbling dust,
grow old,
and, knowing that I’m waning
in the number of my days to come,
now want all this with me here.
And in my slow Decembering,
my long nights of remembering
the fading past and how it falls away now,
all too easily,
bring me, bring me, bring me,
you.
this time of loning wind,
of silver snow and cold
and early dusk,
a music wild and dangerous,
a music that the heavens cannot hold.
Bring me the chorales the angels sang
at Christmas tide,
the gloried song that burnished all the stars
and kept the closing dark at bay.
Bring me their cheer,
their bright enkindling,
yes, pine, and fire, too.
For I, a thing made up of Eros and of tumbling dust,
grow old,
and, knowing that I’m waning
in the number of my days to come,
now want all this with me here.
And in my slow Decembering,
my long nights of remembering
the fading past and how it falls away now,
all too easily,
bring me, bring me, bring me,
you.
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