(to the living God, to whom all praise is due)
ye singers of madrigals choirs of minstrelsy
how often I would have been even given the centuries I have lived in
wreathed in your song
but men now love flattery publicity getting a high degree piled on a high degree
more than they love beauty
how I wanted to be
of your bright company
now they laugh to scorn.
someday it will be
the return of music and the muse
the return of the verities.
the rocks will sing out
and sound like crystal bells
then all shall be well
now we mourn for the coming of true day
and practice true singing
as if we were a quiet a desperate army
each of us, only one.
mary angela douglas 12 december 2020
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