Ernest Rhys

BLACK crow, art thou come

For Dagonet’s wit?

It is quick as the light

Or the dragon-fly’s dart.

It is born in a smile,

It is bred in the heart,

It is light, it is laughter.

It took life when Eve laughed

At the lion-cub’s play;

It slept then awhile,

When her sorrow came after

With the son of the snake.

Eve’s joy was my mother,

Not Eve’s sorrow;

And the bird is my brother

That sings as he may.

In the close of my day,

Lies curl’d up the morrow

Like the fox in his bed.

And my wit, if I die,

Yet shall wake and shall fly—

Take music and live

When Dagonet’s dead.