Thoughts on a song.

             

As the Winter is approaching its ending,

while the darkest hour signals the coming 

of a speedy daylight,

mourning is transforming its end

for its own sake.

Songs heard in other winter-times

and ages of frantic intervals

come to memory to ring the bells

of the forthcoming morning.

Humming such a song at this time

cannot be granted as a lullaby

but it certainly can be called one.

Cymbeline.

Fear no more the heat of the sun
Nor the furious winters rages;
Thou thy wordly task hast done,
Home art gone, and taken thy wages.
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.

Fear no more the frown of the great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke.
Care no more to clothe and to eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak.
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.

All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan.
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.

Loreena McKennitt's "Cymbeline" from the album "The Visit", 1991.

Lyrics by William Shakespeare, ca. 1609.