WHEN freezing winter smites the whirling globe, I kiss the lingering flowers that look afraid, And smooth the graves, where, like a folded robe The worn-out bodies, that men love, are laid. As noiseless as the deepest love I fall, As mute and tender and divinely pure; When sunshine comes, I hide away from all In roots that make the coming blossoms sure. For many weary folk that, homeless, fare, Having no roof, and bidden still move on, I make a bed where they, forgetting care, Will wake with sweeter words to think upon. For are not softest snow and fiercest flame The angels and the ministers of One Who writes the symbols of His secret Name In all the universe of star and sun? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALL FOOLS' CALENDER by DONALD (GRADY) DAVIDSON DOMESDAY BOOK: THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HOLES BORED IN A WORKBAG BY THE SCISSORS by MARIANNE MOORE A POEM FOR MAX NORDAU by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: OVER THE MACKINAC by KAREN SWENSON REALITY REQUIRES by WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA |