Fredegond Shove

Now when I sleep the thrush breaks through my dreams With sharp reminders of the coming day: After his call, one minute I remain

I sat in heaven like the sun Above a storm when winter was: I took the snowflakes one by one

'And he, casting away his garment, rose and came to Jesus.' And he cast it down, down, on the green grass, Over the young crocuses, where the dew was -

I wish this world and its green hills were mine, But it is not; the wandering shepherd star Is not more distant, gazing from afar