Oberon's Glade

Tag: George Meredith

  • Winter Heavens

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    Winter Heavens
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    George Meredith (1888)
     
    “Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive
    Leap off the rim of earth across the dome.
    It is a night to make the heavens our home
    More 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 springs
    Of radiance, the radiance enrings:
    And this is the soul’s haven to have felt.”