GAUNT shadows stretch along the hill; Cold clouds drift slowly west; Soft flocks of vagrant snow-flakes fill The redwing's empty nest. By sunken reefs the hoarse sea roars; Above the shelving sands, Like skeletons the sycamores Uplift their wasted hands. The air is full of hints of grief, Strange voices touched with pain -- The pathos of the falling leaf And rustling of the rain. In yonder cottage shines a light, Far-gleaming like a gem -- Not fairer to the Rabbins' sight Was star of Bethlehem! |