Generations

The running river froze with ice,
And still, and still, I held his place.
I called his name, but once, but thrice,
But Eternity! in thickness stewed its grace
And fell upon its knees to pray
The handsome songs of nether-day.
The moonless waves fell ill with cold,
And pleasure borrowed from its sheath;
For once, never was the story more told
Than the contrast of charcoal with ice beneath.

Dancing on the blades of steel,
A little girl fell hard and fast.
Her pure white dress, as she could feel,
Was crusting, dusting; it was the last.
Times were hard, life isn’t cheap,
So go to sleep now, count your sheep.
She hung her heart out there to dry,
And let the yellow warm wind blow.
She told herself she’d never cry,
And let herself die, die slow.


All the world is such a whir,
Wish you had no frozen fears.
Have a heart, dear special girl,
Blinking down your sullen tears,
And wishing for the break of day;
Little hands will fall away.
Dancing through, and feeling dead,
Never feel free to fly.
Rest your head now, go to bed,
Cry your little lullaby.