Snow

There's not a sound tonight I look out and am beaten In my face by curious, white, Unexpected flakes Of snow in a daze fleeting And retire shievering to The warm room and the lamplight Where my music waits, and O Ben Jonson lies...... For delight my man's nature with his great spirit. O warmth! O Golden light! O books behind me waiting Their turn for my love's thought...... Turning from work To wrap myself in a past of golden lighting. Music must flow with his power, I Bend over my task and am hard At wrestling with the stuff for mastery That is dumb music now--- My spirit and I wrestle, you may hear us breathing hard. Was there and Love, could draw me Out of my true way of work and action? Yes, one there was, but Time has dared show me (A soldier and maker) That time dares all things, and defies ever question.