Prelude to Into the Wilds

 

Is this the huuse where the young girls danced?
Is this the house where we danced?
Where is the stage where fiddlers played,
the pipers piped, the singers sang?
What are these stains on the ballroom floor?
The swish of slippered feet no more.
Is that where my painting used to hangó
the one where the prince bowed, courting a maid?
Is this the house where the young girls danced?
Is this the house where we danced?

Is this the wall where the little boys played?
Is this the wall where they played?
They chalked their circles, hurled their stones,
and wrestled in the grass beside.
Our safety 'gainst undreamed-of war;
now stone remains on stone no more.
This was a wall where nobles died,
where sun beats down now, bleaching bones.
Is this the wall where the little boys played?
Is this the wall where they played?

Is this the room where my mother prayed?
Is this the room where she prayed?
The room where she read to me, braided my hair,
dressed me, kissed me, dried my tears?
Begged for grace from Heaven's store;
her supplications rise no more
to fall upon almighty ears.
Does Iesu see? Does Iesu care?
Is this the room where my mother prayed?
Is this the room where she prayed?

 

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