Winter

December paradox!  The hand of death

That the heart seizes and a numbness brings

To sense and feeling, nurtures yet the roots

Deep-hidden the frost-shuttered earth beneath,

Where secretly the embryonic springs

Wait with a pent-up power to stir the shoots.

All nature rests with half-suspended breath

For the returning life to give it wings,

And bless the toil of man with flowers and fruits;

To slip its gleaming sword from ancient sheath.

We in the swing of the year’s pendulum

Rest but to gather what we’ve freely spent,

To spend again; the while the soul’s pabulum

Ever increases till its fulfilment.

Weekly Times     14.12.62