The stars are dizzy, for they circle in a ring.
Round about the Pole Star all hold hands.
The moon lifts her skirts up to do a giddy fling,
The trees in the forest dance in big black bands.
The river is bounding from place to place,
The fishes in the cold air rise and shine.
The parallel hedgerows are running in a race,
For each of them and all of them are drunk with wine.
The grand old buildings, alas and woe is me!
Sway about unsteadily from side to side.
The streets are moreover crooked things to see;
There is no object anywhere will stand and bide.
The goblins are assembled in a mad-moon crowd
Upon the hazy summit of the palpitating hill.
Let the things that have no voice shout out loud!
Let them dance, the fickle things, and have their fill!
And if again they will not sub-subside,
(For round-around-around ho! and dance shall we!)
The road of the rebel stars is cool and wide,
The mad waves dance on the sea!
Then beat like thunder heart, then! round go head!
The red stars swing in time.
For soon enough, the Lord knows, shall I be dead,
And dead my rhythm and rhyme!
OXFORD
WE LADS WHO BARTER RHYMES
There's some be red of face, they be,
Like jolly suns in harvest times,
And some be haggard men to see,
Because of certain hidden crimes.
But let us sing with one accord
That we're the chosen of the Lord,
We lads who barter rhymes.