VOICES returning, cradle us, cradling voices:
Echoes extenuated of what we love as it passes,
Bells of mules turning the mountain passes,
--Voices returning, cradle us, cradling voices. Intoxicate us, you also, flasks that prison the yore:
Odours in harvests garnered, fleeces shorn from the hours,
Flesh of amber and musk, mouths of gillyflowers,
--Intoxicate us, you also, flasks that prison the yore. In this morning of winter, and of shadows chill,
In this morning of winter the voice of the lark is still.
--Voices returning, cradle us, cradling voices. The lilies are cut in the garden, and every rose,
And the irises by the waters, waters morose.
--Intoxicate us, you also, flasks that prison the yore.