The Father. The Child. Death. Angels. Two Travellers. * * * *
The even settles still and deep,
In the cold sky the last gold burns,
Across the colour snow flakes creep.
Each one from grey to glory
Then flutters into nothingness;
The frost down falls with mighty
Through the swift cloud that parts on high;
The great stars shrivel into
In the hard depth of the iron sky._ * * * *
The
What is that light, dear father, That light in the dark, dark
The
Those are the lights of the city And the villages
The
There must be fire in the city To throw that yellow glare;
And fire in the little villages On all the hearthstones
The Father,
Yea, flames are on the hearthstones; The ovens are full of bread,
But here the coals are dying And the flames are
The
What is the cold, dear father? It stings like an angry bee.
Wherever it stings my hand turns white,
The
The cold is a beast, my dear one, With his paws he tears at the thatch,
His breath is a curse and a warning, You can see it creep on the
The
If 'tis a wolf, dear father, That lies with his paw on the floor,
Let us heat the spade in the embers And drive him away from the
God is the power of growth,
In the snail and the tree,
God is the power of
In the heart of the
The
Did you not hear the singing, Voices overhead?
Mother's voice and Ruth's voice, Voices of the
The Father,
Our Ruth died in the springtime, With the spade I turned the sod,
We buried her by the brier rose, Her life is hid with
The
All summer long in the garden No roses came to the tree.
Father, was it for sorrow, Sorrow for thee and
The
Roses grew in the garden, I saw them at morning and even,
Shadows of earthly roses They bloomed for fingers in heaven. * * * *
The air is very clear and still,
The moonlight falls from half the sphere;
The shadow from the silver
Fills half the vale, and half is
As the moon's self with cloudless snow;
By the dead stream the alders
Their shadows, shot with tingling spars;
On the sheer height the elm trees glow:
Their tops are tangled with the stars._ * * * *
The
Father, the coals are dying, See!
I have heated the spade,
Let me throw the door wide open, I will not be
The
Let me kiss you once on the forehead, And once on your darling eyes;
We may see them both at the dawning, In the dales of
The
And if I only see them, I will tell them how you smiled;
For the wolf, you know, is angry, And I am a little
Undaunted spirits,
I give thee peace,
For a world of dread--Calm.
For desperate toil--Rest.
Thou who didst say,
When the waters of
Waxed deep, deep,
What we bear is best;
Just ones,
I give thee
First
Keep up your spirits,
I
There's a cabin under the hill,
The fellow will make a roaring fire;
We'll heat our hands and drink our
And go warm to our heart's
Second
The door is open,--Heigho!
This pair will claim neither crown nor groat,
The man has gripped his garden
As if he would dig his grave in the snow;
The boy has the face of a saint,
I trow;
His brow says, "I was not
First
Ah well, these things must be, you know!
Gather your sables around your throat;
Give us that story about the monk,
His niece, and the wandering conjurer,
Just to keep our blood
The
The heart of God,
The worlds and man,
Are fashioned and moulded,
In a subtle plan;
Passion outsurges,
Sweeps far but converges:
Nothing is lost,
Sod or stone,
But comes to its own;
Bear well thy joy,'Tis mixed with alloy,
Bear well thy grief,'Tis a rich full sheaf:
Gather the souls that have passed in the night,
Theirs is the peace and the light. * * * *
The moon is gone, the dawning bringsA deeper dark with silver blent,
Above the wells where, myriad,
Light from the crimson orient;
The elms are born, the shadows creep,
Tremble and melt away--one
The great soft color floods and flows,
Where under snow the roses sleep;
The morn has turned the snow to rose._
