VERSES

Evening Star, Issue 21636, 3 February 1934, Page 22

VERSES

A WINTER'S TALE

An hour ago I only knew The fields were fast with frozen dew, And every tiny blade and shoot Broke like thin crystal underfoot. Now the white Silence floats and falls To hide the roofs in snowy shawls, And snowy fingers smooth and heal The road-scars of* the lolling wheel. Quiet is come. 0! drop your book, Children, and on the roadway look As smooth out there, all starched with rime, As tablecloths at breakfast time. Along the lane the rows of trees Are covered with white surplices. And scan the sky as though the dim Stars were the notes of their soft hymn. What anthem-notes are these that stir The lofty boughs of pine and fir? “Hush!” they all sigh, “for that Child’s sake Whoso crucifix our boughs shad make.” “Hush!” they all murmur to the wind, “ Sad boughs that shall at last be pinned To hold His body that now rocks In cradle nigh the stalled ox!” “ Hush!” sigh the boughs. “O! hush and hark • The angels singing in the dark. Now Wise men seek Him, and for them A star shines over Bethlehem.” —Wilfrid Thorley, in the ‘ Observer.’