On death

I think I am going to learn to sing again. In the face of all the death I have been reminded of these first 2 weeks of the year, I think a little effort - physical effort - should be put into singing. So today (now yesterday) I have had to learn this for evensong in a few hours.


 Evensong is now over but remember daffodils by Herrick

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
  You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
  Has not attain'd his noon.
   Stay, stay,
 Until the hasting day
  Has run
   But to the even-song;
And, having pray'd together, we
Will go with you along.

We have short time to stay, as you,
 We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay,
 As you, or anything.
  We die
 As your hours do, and dry
  Away,
   Like to the summer's rain;
Or as the pearls of morning's dew,
Ne'er to be found again.

Flowers die too, haste away, sometimes too soon, and get tangled with weeds. In the midst of prodigious even wanton prodigality,  room - no room - too much room, from desert to crowded gardens. Here is a performance of the Britten flower songs, Daffodils leading...