Weekend 396.0

What the Bird Said Early in the Year by C.S. Lewis

I heard in Addison’s Walk a bird sing clear:
This year the summer will come true. This year. This year.
Winds will not strip the blossom from the apple trees
This year, nor want of rain destroy the peas.
This year time’s nature will no more defeat you,
Nor all the promised moments in their passing cheat you.
This time they will not lead you round and back
To Autumn, one year older, by the well-worn track.
This year, this year, as all these flowers foretell,
We shall escape the circle and undo the spell.
Often deceived, yet open once again your heart,
Quick, quick, quick, quick!—the gates are drawn apart.

Friday Afternoons, Op. 7: “Cuckoo!” by Benjamin Britten

What do you do?
In April, I open my bill.
In May, I sing night and day.
In June, I change my tune.
In July, far, far I fly…
In August, away!
I must…

Back in the World by David Gray

Less than sand on the beach
Staring into the reaches of space and time
I’m singing out words
But the voice that I hear
It seems barely mine
If it’s love put the song in my heart
Is it God by another name
Who’s to say how it goes
All I know is
I’m back in the world again

Hail, Queen of Heaven, the Ocean Star by Father John Lingard

Hail, Queen of Heaven, the ocean star,
Guide of the wand’rer here below:
Thrown of life’s surge, we claim thy care- save us from peril and from woe.
Mother of Christ, star of the sea,
Pray for the wanderer, pray for me.

Sojourners in this vale of tears,
To thee, blest advocate, we cry;
Pity our sorrows, calm our fears,
And soothe with hope our misery.
Refuge in grief, star of the sea,
Pray for the mourner, pray for me.

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