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Coventry
Carol
Wherein
the deep night sky
The stars lie in its embraceThe courtyard still in its sleep
And peace comes over your face.
"Come to me," it sings
"Hear the pulse of the land
The ocean's rhythms pull
To hold your heart in its hand."
And when the wind draws strong
Across the cypress trees
The nightbirds cease their songs
So gathers memories.
Last night you spoke of a dream
Where forests stretched to the east
And each bird sang its song
A unicorn joined in a feast
And in a corner stood
A pomegranate tree
With wild flowers there
No mortal eye could see
Yet still some mystery befalls
Sure as the cock crows at morn
The world in stillness keeps
The secret of babes to be born
I heard an old voice say
"Don't go far from the land
The seasons have their way
No mortal can understand."
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God
Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen
God
rest ye merry, gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay
Remember Christ our Saviour
Was born on Christmas Day
To save us all from Satan's power
When we were gone astray.
O tidings of comfort and joy,
comfort and joy;
O tidings of comfort and joy!
From God our Heavenly Father
A blessed angel came
And unto certain shepherds
Brought tidings of the same
How in that Bethlehem was born
The son of God by name
"Fear not," then said the angel
"Let nothing you affright
This day is born a saviour
Of a pure virgin bright
To free all those who trust in him
From Satan's pow'r and might"
The shepherds at those tidings
Rejoiced much in mind,
And left their flocks a-feeding
In tempest, storm and wind
And went to Bethlehem straightaway
This blessed babe to find
But when to Bethlehem they came
Whereat this infant lay
They found him in a manger
Where oxen feed on hay
His mother Mary kneeling
Unto the Lord did pray
Now to the Lord sing praises
All you within this place
And with true love and brotherhood
Each other now embrace
This holy tide of Christmas
All others doth deface
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Good
King Wenceslas
Good
King Wenceslas looked out
On the Feast of Stephen
When the snow lay 'round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath'ring winter fuel
"Hither, page, and stand by me,
If thou know'st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes' fountain."
"Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine-logs hither
Thou and I shall see him dine
When we bear them thither."
Page and monarch, forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather.
"Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how
I can go no longer."
"Mark my footsteps, good my page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shall find the winter's rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly."
In his master's step he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye, who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing.
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Seeds
Of Love
I
sowed the seeds of love
I sowed them in the spring
I gathered them up in the morning so clear
When the small birds so sweetly sing
When the small birds so sweetly sing
The gardener was standing by
I asked him to choose for me
He chose for me the violet, the lily and the pink
But those I refused all three
But those I refused all three
The violet I did not like
Because it bloomed so soon
The lily and the pink I really over-think
So I thought I would wait till June
So I thought I would wait till June
In June there was a red rose bud
That is the flower for me
I often times have plucked that red rose bud
Till I gained the willow tree
Till I gained the willow tree
The willow tree will twist
The willow tree will twine
I often have wished I was in the young man's arms
Who once had the arms of mine
Who once had the arms of mine
I sowed the seeds of love
I sowed them in the spring
I gathered them up in the morning so soon
When the small birds so sweetly sing
When the small birds so sweetly sing
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Snow
White
are the far-off plains, and white
The fading forests grow;
The wind dies out along the height
And denser still the snow,
A gathering weight on roof and tree
Falls down scarce audibly.
The road before me smooths and fills
Apace, and all about
The fences dwindle, and the hills
Are blotted slowly out;
The naked trees loom spectrally
Into the dim white sky.
The meadows and far-sheeted streams
Lie still without a sound;
Like some soft minister of dreams
The snow-fall hoods me round;
In wood and water, earth and air,
A silence everywhere.
Save when Some farmer's sleigh, urged on,
With rustling runner and sharp bells,
Swings by me and is gone;
Or from the empty waste I hear
A sound remote and clear;
The barking of a dog, or call
To cattle, sharply pealed,
Borne, echoing from some wayside stall
Or barnyard far afield;
Then all is silent and the snow falls
Settling soft and slow
The evening deepens and the grey
Folds closer earth and sky
The world seems shrouded, far away.
Its noises sleep, and I as secret as
Yon buried stream plod dumbly on and dream.
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