 | Evensong |  |
47
WINTER MORNING
(Brookhill 1918)
The stars faded out of the paling sky,
Dropped through the waters, but the Morning Star
Grew brighter and brighter, and as day was nigh
A pure wind troubled the rushes near and far.
Dropped through the waters, but the Morning Star
Grew brighter and brighter, and as day was nigh
A pure wind troubled the rushes near and far.
No bird was yet awake: only the duck
Homed to the little lake, fed full with streams:
Strange and unreal the full morning broke
On a still world as God saw it in dreams.
Homed to the little lake, fed full with streams:
Strange and unreal the full morning broke
On a still world as God saw it in dreams.
The still-life, austere world was grey and cool,
Lit by one burning torch of purest flame.
Home, from what hidden haunt, what secret pool?
Borne on the morning wind, the wild duck came.
Lit by one burning torch of purest flame.
Home, from what hidden haunt, what secret pool?
Borne on the morning wind, the wild duck came.
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