Ballade of midwinter

another time will pass with all its shows
and soon enough we'll find we can't recall
the secrets that the mass thought to disclose
each day grew shorter with the year's long fall
over our heads we pulled blanket and shawl
so many things we thought not to forgo
rumours they came and went about the snow
the streets we passed wet or dry still stank
with long ages of putrefaction far too slow
we waited for the stream to burst its bank

there are so many facts we could expose
so many words were whispered in the hall
with many a package tied up in neat bows
the least of things would some small hearts appal
the engines would just sputter and then stall
we'd wait and on our frozen hands would blow
while looking upward at the circling crow
and all was paused behind us rank on rank
elsewhere the urgent seas might ebb and flow
we waited for the stream to burst its bank

the hungry avians gather hawks and crows
there's something here that has issued a call
we dream in vagueness of a summer rose
but all our options have become quite small
the whole parade has halted from a crawl
and not a blessed thing for us to show
but knowledge of just where each has to go
and where the fêted ship was when it sank
all stood there then a single vast tableau
we waited for the stream to burst its bank

prince there are gifts you would not dare bestow
but we are better for the spade and hoe
we know in summer the weeds will be rank
but there'll be time and space for them to grow
as for the rest you do not have to know
we waited for the stream to burst its bank