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Bring me at this time of year,

Bring me at this time of year,
this time of loning wind
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 then the stars
and kept the closing dark at bay.
Bring me their cheer,
their bright enkindling,
and pine, and fire, too.
For I, a thing made up of Eros and of tumbling dust,
grow old,
and, knowing that Iím waning
in the number of my days to come,
so want this with me here.
And in my slow Decembering,
my long nights of remembering,
Bring me, bring me, you.
Baldwin
Written by Baldwin
Published
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