In the briefest hours of day,
Feel the wintry zephyrs blow,
And crystalline waters sway,
Within the glacial air flow,
Dancing below clouds o' gray,
O'er boonies and boroughs grow,
Blanket.
Flakes of filament woven,
Some secret artisan craft,
Bond in some covert coven,
Defects on wings of a draft,
Tottering toss from heaven,
Riding a winding air shaft,
Alights.
Solstice moon — aloft the earth,
Beckons the diamonds to laud,
Stained glass illumined in worth,
Breathes awe in hymn and ballad,
A strange fear mingled with mirth,
Crystal chancel o'er the sod,
Reveals.
The quiet,
The flakes,
The presence.
2 comments:
r if you should have 'secret' in line 2 and line 3 of v. 2. I don't have a strong view on the matter. Perhaps it has a good poetic impact.
Poo! Some of my lines went missing.
I said that I liked the poem. I then raised one minor question with it (most of which survives)
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