Winter Rest

In frozen realms where snow to spring’s will never bends, The laden branches of the firs quake full of fright And only the audacious sunlight solace lends To bashful birds which fear the loneness of their flight. Dark, weary thoughts and waking dreams enshroud my mind And dismal visions veil in haze my feeble sight, Which stares into the void and little comfort finds. How haunting is the moving specter of the night! The day grows dim when dirges spread their aching blight And broken skies unleash their curse of ice, and when Gray, heavy clouds both earth and tameless seas unite In tongues of frost with words unbridled by the pen. The lure of winter rest, the sun’s abiding shine Are both forgotten by the wind’s dry, bitter might As years grow old and weak while youthful hopes decline And I await the solemn verdict of the night. Just you, dear mother, gently calling from within Your peaceful nest of withered leaves and wilted thyme, Entrance my senses like a fair and lambent queen Whose calls reach forth from far beyond your grave and time. The birds are still, the wick of joy is drowned in fear And lost within the restless sea of aimless plight When stars are growing dim and midnight’s call is near. Beware the strange and sullen silence of the night! Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com