Summon the Day of Deliverance

A poem for Good Friday, a day of fasting, but of impossible hope. And this year, the virtuous pagans (and otherwise)  celebrate their Mother Earth Day on this same date. Here is the poem:
From The Forest Of Wild Thyme

by Alfred Noyes

Little Boy Blue, come blow up your horn,
Summon the day of deliverance in:
We are weary of bearing the burden of scorn
As we yearn for the home that we never shall win;
For here there is weeping and sorrow and sin.
And the poor and the weak are a spoil for the strong!
Ah, when shall the song of the ransomed begin?
The world is grown weary with waiting so long.

Little Boy Blue, you are gallant and brave,
There was never a doubt in those clear bright eyes.
Come, challenge the grim dark Gates of the Grave
As the skylark sings to those infinite skies!
This world is a dream, say the old and the wise,
And its rainbows arise o’er the false and the true;
But the mists of the morning are made of our sighs,–
Ah, shatter them, scatter them, Little Boy Blue!

Little Boy Blue, if the child-heart knows,
Sound but a note as a little one may;
And the thorns of the desert shall bloom with the rose,
And the Healer shall wipe all tears away;
Little Boy Blue, we are all astray,
The sheep’s in the meadow, the cow’s in the corn,
Ah, set the world right, as a little one may;
Little Boy Blue, come blow up your horn!

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