A cold wind stirs the blackthorn To burgeon and to blow, Besprinkling half-green hedges With flakes and sprays of snow. Thro' coldness and thro' keenness, Dear hearts, take comfort so: Somewhere or other doubtless These make the blackthorn blow. Lord Jesus, who would think that I am Thine? Ah, who would think Who sees me ready to turn back or sink, That Thou art mine? I cannot hold Thee fast tho' Thou art mine: Hold Thou me fast, So earth shall know at last and heaven at last That I am Thine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. SIBLEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE MASK by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING SIXTY-EIGHTH BIRTHDAY by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL SONNET: 'EVEN THIS WILL PASS AWAY' by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A WINTER DAY by ALBERT LINDLEY BEANE FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SAD AND CHEERFUL SONGS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES REUNITED LOVE by RICHARD DODDRIDGE BLACKMORE THE DEEPER FRIENDSHIP by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR UPON HIS POEM by CHRISTOPHER BROOKE |