Winter Heavens
Sharp is the night, but stars with frost aliveLeap off the rim of earth across the dome.It is a night to make the heavens our homeMore than the nest whereto apace we strive.Lengths down our road each fir-tree seems a hive,In swarms outrushing from the golden comb.They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam:The living throb in me, the dead revive.Yon mantle clothes us: there, past mortal breath,Life glistens on the river of the death.It folds us, flesh and dust; and have we knelt,Or never knelt, or eyed as kine the springsOf radiance, the radiance enrings:And this is the soul's haven to have felt.
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