Woods of Old

From deep within the winter night A voice shall wake and soar on high With never but a single light To shine upon its bitter cry. A voice, a heart, a face, a star Shall roam above the woods of old And carry out our thoughts afar Into the storm of ice and cold. The woods shall stir, the embers quake, The rills of life shall turn to snow Far long before the dead can wake To deal the living one last blow. Dull rain shall fall, the moon grow thin, The wolves shall close around their prey, All life lamenting it had been No more than game to hunt and slay. And then the world shall rise anew: A brighter sun shall reign at last Above the bravest and the few Who have outdone their bitter past. Find Langford's poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com