Agnus - Anthem
This is my song, with its yearly refrain;
The song of the limp, wet, scarcely alive new-born
Dropped for just a second into silence.
Hummed to life, first faint; blurred into being
In the green steeped morning,
Suckled, filled, warmed, awakened
Under the dream of blue.
This is the melody caught by the stilt-legged urchin,
Setting out on its quick-footed
High-stepping new-this-morning life,
Trilled out until it bounds and bleats
and jumps to catch the wind.
This is the song of the long spring day:
When the last light sinks low through the evening air,
Filtered into gold by the warm days’ dust;
Of the mysterious thrumming of tiny hooves
Beating out their flight across the high meadow.
What wild rhapsody seizes them in this last hour
To race against the gloom?
This is my song, with its yearly refrain;
The song of the limp, wet, scarcely alive new-born
Dropped for just a second into silence.
Hummed to life, first faint; blurred into being
In the green steeped morning,
Suckled, filled, warmed, awakened
Under the dream of blue.
This is the melody caught by the stilt-legged urchin,
Setting out on its quick-footed
High-stepping new-this-morning life,
Trilled out until it bounds and bleats
and jumps to catch the wind.
This is the song of the long spring day:
When the last light sinks low through the evening air,
Filtered into gold by the warm days’ dust;
Of the mysterious thrumming of tiny hooves
Beating out their flight across the high meadow.
What wild rhapsody seizes them in this last hour
To race against the gloom?
