
Winter Words, Op. 52: 8. Before Life and After Benjamin Britten
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A time there was—as one may guess
And as, indeed, earth’s testimonies tell—
Before the birth of consciousness
When all went well
None suffered sickness, love, or loss
None knew regret, starved hope, or heart-burnings;
None cared whatever crash or cross
Brought wrack to things
If something ceased, no tongue bewailed
If something winced and waned, no heart was wrung;
If brightnеss dimmed, and dark prevailed
No sеnse was stung
But the disease of feeling germed
And primal rightness took the tinct of wrong:
Ere nescience shall be reaffirmed
How long, how long?
And as, indeed, earth’s testimonies tell—
Before the birth of consciousness
When all went well
None suffered sickness, love, or loss
None knew regret, starved hope, or heart-burnings;
None cared whatever crash or cross
Brought wrack to things
If something ceased, no tongue bewailed
If something winced and waned, no heart was wrung;
If brightnеss dimmed, and dark prevailed
No sеnse was stung
But the disease of feeling germed
And primal rightness took the tinct of wrong:
Ere nescience shall be reaffirmed
How long, how long?
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