247 and 248

If you have ever known a musician,

or been to a rehearsal, you will know,

that few, if any, bring with them a pen

to mark their music. So they must borrow.

Purveyor of the pencils and the pens,

do hear the praises of the ones you save:

we two may not be known, or even friends,

but friend you are to we who can’t behave.

Despite the glory of the solo star,

or all the sections and the bars they play,

it’s not the soloist who gets us far,

but he who lends the pens who saves the day.

So, pencil-giver, ‘bushel’ not your cause--

‘tis you who’s earned the greatest of applause.

~~~

These nations two, yours blessèd with the sun,

and mine quite cold and dreary, steeped in rain,

should make our treaty—make our profits one—

and meet in pleasure on a peaceful plain.

This war has been affliction to us both.

My clouds will darken any sunny morn.

And I hate seeing it. So here, a troth:

no rain of mine shall make your people mourn.

You’ll have all rain can grow, what’s mine is thine,

and ev’ry drought of yours shall our clouds quench,

and I shall see the light that is not mine,

thy light shall all my stubborn stormclouds drench.

A white flag drenched in weather do I bring,

don’t let me bring it home until it’s Spring.