Sidney Beck Poet Imagism

Loneliness

LONELINESS



Isolated pale pole,  far remote :
Tick of sun’s clock brings only midday darkness,
Bleeding warmth to a chilled cold,
And a harsh, bitter wind blowing
Winter-death into the diminishing log-pile.
Undercutting, blinding blizzard attacks
Over endless, silent snow-wastes,
Unbroken by any melody of tinkling
Icicles or wind through the forest,
Dancing waters of stream and lake have long ceased.
Green is suspended;
White emptiness fills the nothing;
Grey skies, birds gone south.
And oh, for any indicator of life in this frozen wilderness.
A single surge of reciprocated feeling.
Oh, to look out at others
In their warmth and closeness,
With winds balmy
And snow of frolicking fun,
Where sunshine is  aglow,  and 
Their winter is Christmas.

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