ON THE TUNE CALLED THE OLD-HUNDRED-AND-FOURTH
Reading edition
We never sang together Ravenscroft’s terse old tune On Sundays or on weekdays, In sharp or summer weather, At night-time or at noon.
Why did we never sing it, Why never so incline On Sundays or on weekdays, Even when soft wafts would wing it From your far floor to mine?
Shall we that tune, then, never Stand voicing side by side On Sundays or on weekdays? . . . Or shall we, when for ever In Sheol we abide,
Sing it in desolation, As we might long have done On Sundays or on weekdays With love and exultation Before our sands had run?