PAVANE FOR THE NEW YEAR
Soul, plucking the many strings
Of my limbs like puppet’s, make them dance,
Dance, dance, in sombre joy,
That after all the sullen play
The old world falls, the new world forms.
A thought like music takes us now,
So like, that every soul must move,
Move in a most stately measure,
And souls and bodies tread in time
Till all the trembling towers fall down.
And now the stones arise again
Till all the world is built anew
And now in one accord like rhyme,
And we who wound the midnight clock
Hear the clock of morning chime.
