THIS fragile witchery of frost, This stillness in the steely sky, So strange, so cold, to us, the lost, How seems it to the King on high? Is He too frozen in His dream? So chilly seems the violet hill, So white the fields without a gleam Where writhes the iron-coloured rill, So icy frigid is the day, It might be all the thought of one Who had long lost the heavenly way That leads unto the central sun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUATORZAINS: 5. TO NIGHT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES TO ONE IN BEDLAM by ERNEST CHRISTOPHER DOWSON A LIFE'S PARALLELS by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI IMAGES: 2 by RICHARD ALDINGTON MY LITTLE GARDEN by GWENDOLEN ALLEN EN TOUR; A SONG SEQUENCE: 1. THE GARGOYLE by ALBERTA BANCROFT |