The eloquence and poetry
Of this gay bright pagentry
Of the faces of the skies
Thousand tongues each for it vies
A week of times is seen to pass
Quite above this face of glass
Beyond the moon, beyond the sun
Scale the eighth, return to one.
Here all-lit below we see
From facing sky and fencing sea
The dry land, the ground of earth
The place of toil, of passing worth.
Ignorant of the market-week
Of man's works and double-speak
These tongues around are silent struck
Mouths sit closed, clamped, stuck.
What is this dull, all brilliant thing
Unconquered country, redoubted king?
These are the times each man must know
By places the man now knows below.
Four is a number for worlds inscribed
And four is the way it is described
Dry and wet or light and dark*
Tongues be still, and ears hark
Now the seasons, their place we mark.
a postscript is here written:
*Traditionally the four seasons are described as two sets of two characteristics; dry or wet, and warm or cold. In extreme climates, it could be said that one of the two of these characteristics dominates; on the poles the warm/cold (light/dark) is the determining factor, and at the equator it is the wet/dry.