A Song In E minor

I sing a prayer to Sara, Saint of Gypsies
Whenever Chaos raises her beautiful head,
I recite dear Emily's songs of dying,
And pray dear Robert's poems --sighing,
And hang there in the balance by some emotional thread--

Whenever Chaos raises her beautiful head,
The gypsies come to camp beside me,
Laying out their circles of wagons,
Light their campfires, bring out their flagons
Of wine--then tell their children not to worry,
In this life there is no hurry,
And put them safely in their bed--

A hand passes by me--a voice speaks my name,
I hang there in the balance of the two--
By some emotional thread
And I sing dear Emily's canticle for the dead--
The gypsies break their camp of wagons,
The campfires smolder with the dregs of their flagons
Of wine--and the children sing a song or two,
Whenever Chaos raises her beautiful head.