THREE SONGS, FROM “THE LAMP AND THE BELL”
Weave me a robe of richer fibre;
Pattern its web with a rare device.
Give away to the child of a neighbor
This gold gown I was glad in twice.
But buy me a singer to sing one song—
Song about nothing—song about sheep—
Over and over, all day long;
Patch me again my thread-bare sleep.
III
Rain comes down
And hushes the town.
And where is the voice that I heard crying
Snow settles
Over the nettles.
Where is the voice that I heard crying?
Sand at last
On the drifting mast.
And where is the voice that I heard crying
Earth now
On the busy brow.
And where is the voice that I heard crying
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