Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation; 
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness, 
And three trees on the low sky, 
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.

Then at dusk to vespers at Saint Thomas
The choir still rehearsing as I slipped in
Little boys and grown men all in bright red
Singing brightly of magi veniunt
Wise men coming from the east to Jerusalem.