Explore "A Winter Song" by Herbert Trench on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
_To Alice Meynell_
Lady, through grasses stiff with rime / And wraith-hung trees I wander / Where the red sun at pitch of prime / Half of his might must squander; / Narrow the track / As I look back / On traces green behind me, -- / I go alone / To think upon / A face, where none / Shall find me.
Birds peal; but each grim grove its shroud / Retains, as to betoken / Though the young lawn should wave off cloud / These would have Night unbroken, -- / Desire no plash / Of the Lake awash -- / No gold but gold that's glinted / In still device / From the breast of ice / Whose summer cries / Have stinted.
But in a great and glittering space / The black Elm doth restore me / To you. Empower'd with patient grace / Musing she stands before me, -- / Her webs divine / Ghosted with fine / Remembrance few can capture; / Her very shade / On greenness laid / Is white, -- is made / Of rapture!