The Wind Sprang Up at Four O'Clock

(My apprentice and I are studying the work of my Incomparable Master, T.S. Eliot, Nobel Laureate 1948; here is another of his so-called "Minor Poems," which has had a major influence on my life and work.  +Franziska, this is for you...)

The wind sprang up at four o'clock
The wind sprang up and broke the bells
Swinging between life and death
Here, in death's dream kingdom
The waking echo of confusing strife
Is it a dream or something else
When the surface of the blackened river
Is a face that sweats with tears?
I saw across the blackened river
The camp fire shake with alien spears.
Here, across death's other river
The Tartar horsemen shake their spears.

T. S. Eliot
1888-1965
Rest well, my Master