When earth is robed in waves of white
And summer seems a world away
When hearth is warm with firelight
And skies are stoked with icy gray
Above nude tree-copse, stiff, austere
When all the flowers disappear
We do not lose our faith; we know
A garden waits beneath the snow
When dark comes early and stays late
In overtures of moody blue
The heart, a meek and muted slate
Of resolution and review
And when at last the day is born
In cold, colorless winter morn
We do not weep; for each requiem
Dawns nearer to hope’s flower-dream
Beneath the dead of winter; life
And oh, beneath its soldered deep
Faith waits; someday it will be sight
Where summer’s flower-gardens sleep
When winter’s climax grips us; cold
Spilling gray grumbles over gold
Spilling gray grumbles over gold
We are upheld by hope’s refrain…
Where sun and flower-gardens reign
© Janet Martin
...lest we forget:)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed!