Poems (Cromwell)/Winter Song
For works with similar titles, see Winter Song.
WINTER SONG
Through moveless pines I hear the air
Rolling like a silken flood,
And the clear note of a lonesome bird
Piping a quiet word.
Rolling like a silken flood,
And the clear note of a lonesome bird
Piping a quiet word.
Bowing shadows weigh the snows,
In every bush the sunshine flows.
Winter, solemn though it is,
Distils deep mysteries.
In every bush the sunshine flows.
Winter, solemn though it is,
Distils deep mysteries.
We, who must grow poor and old,
Since our loveliest hours in childhood were told,
We, to whom visions in youth were shown
Clear and crowning as dawn,
Must sift and sift to a single theme,
To a lyric line, the truth of our dream.
When age and the winter night are long,
We must simplify our song.
Since our loveliest hours in childhood were told,
We, to whom visions in youth were shown
Clear and crowning as dawn,
Must sift and sift to a single theme,
To a lyric line, the truth of our dream.
When age and the winter night are long,
We must simplify our song.