by Bruce Blunt (1899 - 1957)

The Frostbound Wood
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Language: English 
Mary that was the Child's mother
Met me in the frostbound wood:
Her face was lovely and careladen
Under her white hood.
 
She who once was Heaven's chosen
Moved in loneliness to me,
With a slow grace and weary beauty
Pitiful to see.
 
Bethlehem could hear sweet singing,
"Peace on earth, a Savior's come."
Here the trees were drank, the Heavens
Without stars, and dumb.
 
Past she went with no word spoken,
Past the grave of Him I slew,
Myself the sower of the woodland
And my heart the yew.

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Researcher for this page: Adam Russell

This text was added to the website: 2007-07-08
Line count: 16
Word count: 91