The Loom of Years



Go Back
Take Me Out to the Ball Game
The Elfin Artist
The Loom of Years
Gazes
The Bivouac of the Dead
The Old Pioneer
All Night I Lingered at the Beach
Nocturne
Sentimental Stuff
Miners
The Kaiser and God
Martin Luther at Potsdam
Krzeselko Chicco Polly
Chodzik Pchacz
Chodzik Fisher Price
Lezaczek Bujaczek
Posciel dla dziecka



the light of the silent stars that shine on the struggling sea,
In the weary cry of the wind and the whisper of flower and tree, Under the breath of laughter, deep in the tide of tears,
I hear the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The leaves of the winter wither and sink in the forest mould
Light and scent and music die and are born again
In the heart of a grey-haired woman who wakes in a world of pain.
The hound, the fawn, and the hawk, and the doves that croon and coo,
We are all one woof of the weaving and the one warp threads us through, One flying cloud on the shuttle that carries our hopes and fears
As it goes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
Deisel Shoes
Crocks Shoes
Chipewa Boots
HushPuppies
The green uncrumpling fern and the rustling dewdrenched rose
Pass with our hearts to the Silence where the wings of music close,
Pass and pass to the Timeless that never a moment mars, Pass and pass to the Darkness that made the suns and stars.
Has the soul gone out in the Darkness? Is the dust sealed from sight?
Ah, hush, for the woof of the ages returns thro’ the warp of the night!
Never that shuttle loses one thread of our hopes and fears, As it comes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
O, woven in one wide Loom thro’ the throbbing weft of the whole,
One in spirit and flesh, one in body and soul, Tho’ the leaf were alone in its falling, the bird in its hour to die,
The heart in its muffled anguish, the sea in its mournful cry,
Glazura i terakota
One with the flower of a day, one with the withered moon
One with the granite mountains that melt into the noon One with the dream that triumphs beyond the light of the spheres,
We come from the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years