Thursday, 30 June 2011

Winter by Doris Twinn

Winter by Doris Twinn

I am standing still by a little wood,
And a throstle sings as I wish I could,
And a robin hops where I mean to pass,
And a rabbit bobs in the long brown grass -
Oh, winter-sweet is the little wood;

I have found a lane, between hedges bare,
With a house so small it is hardly there.
The diamond-windows are eyes, I suppose;
The beams in the middle, its pointed nose;
The door its mouth, and the thatch its hair.

Mow I go along by the hawthorn hedge,
And I came to a dark pool, ringed with sedge,
In a field where a flock of peewits were -
For they flew away at my footfalls stir
With sweeping flight to the sunset-edge.

Now the sky has faded from winter-blue,
To a tender grey that is pearly too,
And the great low sun is behand a veil
Of ridges of cloud that smokily sail,
Letting the blaze of the gold shine through.

Tales have ending in the west.
See ! A hare speeds home to his evening rest;
I, too, will set out on the homeward way,
A-dream with those things I can never say -
Maybe 'tis silence fits the best.

These illustrations are pen and ink by the artist C Marjorie Hardie and for a childrens' story book called "Our Girls Gift Book 1929" This was for sale at the time of posting - see -
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