Let's light a candle, oh my love - let silence sing
For snowdrifts that merge in mute orgies
New Year has been born - and cries in his crib
A child of hateful and habitual confinement.

The Time is silent. Grayish in twi-light,
Her face is hidden under drying towel.
The Fool is mad. He stopped in his flight
And fled from sight, the ending left unknown.

That moment when the navel-string is cut!
That ecstasy of crowding midwives!

First cry has happened. And in a gospel cattle-shed
The flies buzz over a year that passed away.