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Saint Lucy & The Lights... Santa Lucia’s Song The night goes with weighty step round yard and hearth-stove round earth, the sun departs leave the woods brooding There in our dark house, appears with lighted candles Saint Lucia, Saint Lucia. The night goes great and mute now hear it swings in every silent room murmurs as if from wings. Look at our threshold stands white-clad with lights in her hair Saint Lucia, Saint Lucia. The darkness shall soon depart from the earth’s valleys thus she speaks a wonderful word to us The day shall rise anew from the rosy sky. Saint Lucia, Saint Lucia. The silver star shines on the sea, The waves are calm, the wind favors us; Come to my quick little boat! Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia! With this west wind so gentle, Oh, how wonderful it is to be at sea! Come passengers, come away! Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia! Oh sweet world, oh blessed sun, where creation wished to smile! You are the command of harmony! Santa Lucia! Santa Lucia! Now why do you delay? The evening is beautiful A cool and light wind is blowing Come to my quick little boat! Santa Lucia!Santa Lucia! A Nocturnal Upon St. Lucy’s Day ’Tis the year’s midnight, and it is the day’s, Lucy’s, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks; The sun is spent, and now his flasks Send forth light squibs, no constant rays; The world’s whole sap is sunk; The general balm th’ hydroptic earth hath drunk, Whither, as to the bed’s feet, life is shrunk, Dead and interr’d; yet all these seem to laugh, Compar’d with me, who am their epitaph. Study me then, you who shall lovers be At the next world, that is, at the next spring; For I am every dead thing, In whom Love wrought new alchemy. For his art did express A quintessence even from nothingness, From dull privations, and lean emptiness; He ruin’d me, and I am re-begot Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not. All others, from all things, draw all that’s good, Life, soul, form, spirit, whence they being have; I, by Love’s limbec, am the grave Of all that’s nothing. Oft a flood Have we two wept, and so Drown’d the whole world, us two; oft did we grow To be two chaoses, when we did show Care to aught else; and often absences Withdrew our souls, and made us carcasses. But I am by her death (which word wrongs her) Of the first nothing the elixir grown; Were I a man, that I were one I needs must know; I should prefer, If I were any beast, Some ends, some means; yea plants, yea stones detest, And love; all, all some properties invest; If I an ordinary nothing were, As shadow, a light and body must be here. But I am none; nor will my sun renew. You lovers, for whose sake the lesser sun At this time to the Goat is run To fetch new lust, and give it you, Enjoy your summer all; Since she enjoys her long night’s festival, Let me prepare towards her, and let me call This hour her vigil, and her eve, since this Both the year’s, and the day’s deep midnight is. John Donne (1572-1631) |
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