OF ST. FRANCIS: HIS WRATH
Our father, 'spite his tenderness
For all the dear God made,
Certes, at times was not afraid
To ban as well as bless.
For all the dear God made,
Certes, at times was not afraid
To ban as well as bless.
There was a young bird, ravening;
A little lark this was;
From a low nest in sunny grass
His parents rose to sing.
A little lark this was;
From a low nest in sunny grass
His parents rose to sing.
And in the nest as well as he
Four young birds soft and sweet,
Through dew, and dusk, and noontide heat
In love did well agree.
Four young birds soft and sweet,
Through dew, and dusk, and noontide heat
In love did well agree.
Thither our father often came,
Rejoicing to behold
God's little birds, with throats of gold,
Swelling to praise His name.
Rejoicing to behold
God's little birds, with throats of gold,
Swelling to praise His name.
And here he often stayed and prayed,
Deriving much pleasure
From the dear anthem wild and pure
The larks sang overhead.
Deriving much pleasure
From the dear anthem wild and pure
The larks sang overhead.
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