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What Kind of Year It Was

Vladymyr Shyshko

What kind of year it was before, Recall that glorious dawn! No omen came to heed us for A trouble's coming storm.

Most solemn was the vow they made To God, the Lord of Heaven! The spirit in its joy surveyed Communion, God's own leaven.

All angels sang in jubilee: The lost lamb has been found! The grapevines trembled with such glee, And water swirled around…

The holy witnesses did sing, A solemn voice rang clear: Behind the Master, following, Go forth without a fear.

In days serene and fair as gold, The soul became a garden sweet. It lacked but wings to bear and hold The voyage to Heaven's seat.

In rapture, songs of praise she poured To Christ in worship true. In times of danger, the Lord assured Her soul was safe and new.

But terror crept with chills and shake Upon the holy ones at dawn. The cunning one, as summer brake Approached, left virtue gone.

What happened to the joyful song,

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