WINTER, a sharp bitter daythe robin turns plump against the coldthe sun is weaksilver faded from goldhe is late in his coming and short in his stayMan, beast, bird and air all purging, all cleansing,earth already purified awaits the rite of springHer bridal gown a virgin snow and frosts in her hairA snowdrop by the road today bowed gracefullyand high upon the wing up in the sparkling nothingness,a lone bird began to singCan gentle spring be far away?
Tommy Makem
No comments:
Post a Comment