THIS fragile witchery of frost, This stillness in the steely sky, So strange, so cold, to us, the lost, How seems it to the King on high? Is He too frozen in His dream? So chilly seems the violet hill, So white the fields without a gleam Where writhes the iron-coloured rill, So icy frigid is the day, It might be all the thought of one Who had long lost the heavenly way That leads unto the central sun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR DECORATION DAY: 1861-1865 by RUPERT HUGHES MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 6 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI FETES GALANTES: MANDOLINE by PAUL VERLAINE AN AUTOGRAPH (1) by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 9. AL-HATHIM by EDWIN ARNOLD THE PILGRIM by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD INTIMATIONS OF MORTALITY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET: SECOND SQUIRE (2) by THOMAS CAMPION |